Stirring Up Trouble
by Predec2
Summary: Justin is a cake designer who rubs Brian the wrong way. Slight AU - Justin/Brian romance, Justin/Emmett friendship - mainly fluff!
1. Chapter 1: Duel Over the Dimetrodon!

Brian fumed as he stood in the crowded aisles of the Steel City Party Supply store. _Why did he ever let Lindsay talk him into this? Oh, yeah…..Sonny Boy_. Gus' birthday was coming up in two days, and he had promised Lindsay he would attend his son's fourth birthday party, as much as it greatly pained him. Not because he didn't want to celebrate the boy's birthday – in fact, Brian was proud of the fact that he had spent so much time with him over the past year, he actually had a good idea what to get him for his birthday. But he dreaded it because he knew he would be spending the day with a bunch of Lindsay and Mel's friends chatting about the latest trend in house design, the best brand of baby clothing, and which type of makeup was best for hiding wrinkles. Not only that, Lindsay had already warned him that she had invited 20 children to the festivities. Twenty lesbian mothers (or more) and at least twenty screaming, out-of-control children did not make Brian a happy man.

But for the sake of his son, who he did want to make happy, he would suck it up and attend, at least long enough to see his son open up his gift to him. Gus was at the stage where he was absolutely fixated on anything having to do with dinosaurs – he had dinosaur bedding, dinosaur curtains, dinosaur puzzles, a dinosaur lamp, even dinosaur drawer handles (actually, they were just the claws). He also had numerous toy models of all types of dinosaurs, from an impressive Tyrannosaurus rex all the way down to a smaller, flying Microraptor (by now, Brian had memorized dozens of dinosaur names after he and Gus had read about them over and over and over again in the same books at bedtime when his son had spent the night with him at the loft). But Gus' most favorite dinosaur of all was the Dimetrodon because of its fearsome, razor-sharp teeth and its spiny, spiked, sail-shaped flap on top. That was all he talked about lately, so Brian was determined to find him a toy model of it for his birthday.

Having no idea where one would find such a fairly uncommon gift (the toy chains only carried the more popular models), he sought out his friend Michael's advice. Mikey was getting ready to open up a comic and collectible shop in town soon, and was well-versed in not only the most widely-read comics but also where you could pick up dozens of types of collectibles, including dinosaurs. Hence, Brian found himself on a busy Saturday afternoon in the hectic, bustling aisles of the party supply store seeking a Dimetrodon for his son; he was determined to find one if it was the last thing he did, and this was his final resort. He had already been to four other stores that Mikey had recommended, and to his consternation there was not a Dimetrodon in sight.

Nursing a tremendous tension headache, he pinched his nose to try and alleviate the pressure between his eyes as he slowly walked studiously down the collectible/activity aisle anxiously looking for his goal. He was finally beginning to feel optimistic regarding his search after he noticed a wide variety of dinosaur collectibles, from do-it-yourself assembly models (too complicated for Gus) to stuffed animal versions of various types (too cutesy and juvenile for someone as intelligent as his son). He eventually spied actual toy versions of several dinosaur types next to the stuffed animals, and came to a stop as he anxiously peered from top to bottom, hoping to find just the right kind of model for his son.

_Yes!_ He exalted silently, as he spied a solitary toy model of the ever-elusive Dimetrodon. _Finally – I can get OUT of this godforsaken place_, he sighed. Smiling to himself in relief, he reached over to pluck the last remaining model of Gus' favorite dinosaur from the shelf, just as a slender, pale hand reached over to grab it at the same time as Brian did. As both of their hands wrapped themselves around the toy, Brian felt a momentary, unexpected jolt at the contact before his irritation rose to the surface and his face flushed in annoyance at the unknown perpetrator. _What the fuck?!_

Brian snarled at the unknown assailant testily, "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Turning around to see who had the gall to snatch the last-remaining Dimetrodon off the shelf, he finally got a good look at his would-be thief. He was shorter than he was, slender, with the brightest eyes and longest lashes Brian had ever seen. And his shiny, slightly tousled hair, worn to the nape, was a golden, light blond color. Being the observant ad executive that he was, also, Brian took a quick second to observe the man's adorable ass that fit snugly inside the tight blue jeans that appeared to be stained with some sort of white substance, and a quite impressive cock (for someone of his stature) as the other man glared over at him, one pale hand on his hip.

"I might ask _you _the same question," he retorted in a melodic, semi-patronizing tone. "I got it first_."_

"Au contraire, Blondie, I had it before you did," Brian bit back, trying not to be detracted by the other man's intense blue eyes glaring back at him; any other time Brian might have found those eyes captivating. Presently, however, as the two men continued to hold onto the toy at the same time, he was more concerned with preserving the one item that his son had his heart set on.

As neither man appeared to be willing to back down, Brian thought that perhaps he could simply do what he had done on so many other occasions before to get what he wanted: he would just pour on a little of the Kinney charm. He deliberately relaxed his face and donned his most mesmerizing, sexy smile as he practically purred to the other man, whose expression appeared to be changing from one of vexation to one of puzzlement, "I'm sure you're a reasonable, intelligent man. This toy is the only thing my little boy wants for his birthday. Certainly you can understand how important this is," he said smoothly. "I'm sure you can find some other dinosaur here that will suit your needs." _Whatever the fuck this man needed with a dinosaur in the first place – he didn't exactly look like the paleontologist type_. Brian continued to smile charmingly at the blond, who kept staring intently at him as if he were sizing him up and seriously considering what Brian had said. _Works every time_, Brian thought smugly as he inadvertently relaxed his hold slightly on the treasured toy.

Brian was correct about one thing; while Justin loved kids, and he could be as sympathetic as the next guy, he was also an intelligent man. And as an intelligent man, he took the opportunity Brian had suddenly provided him to wrap his hand firmly around the dinosaur's tail and snatch it completely away from the other startled man's grasp; Brian's mouth hung open in shock at not the only man's audacity, but also his own failure to win him over with his charms. After all, it had never failed him before; how could this man be immune to them?

For a couple of seconds, he was too shocked to respond; this, fortunately, provided the blond with just enough leeway to quickly escape the other man's reach as he rushed from the scene of the crime, shouting, "Sorry, but I need this, too!" before he quickly was able to disappear into the crowd to prevent the other man from following him. He ran down three aisles, looking over his shoulder and fully expecting a human version of Tyrannosaurus Rex to come bellowing down the aisle any minute, before he finally located a fairly private alcove near the restrooms. Breathing heavily from his exertion, he furtively peeked around the corner in search of his competitor. Eventually satisfied after twenty minutes that the man had finally given up, he cautiously strode toward the nearest cashier, frequently looking behind his back to make sure he was safe. As he completed his precious purchase and dropped it into his canvas tote, he breathed a huge sigh of relief as he walked purposefully toward his beat-up, used Beetle to rush back to the relatively safe confines of his workplace.

Brian sat in his Jeep, fuming at the nerve of the other man who had literally snatched Gus' prized dinosaur from the jaws of victory. The utter arrogance of that twat! Brian must have looked around that store for fifteen minutes in a futile attempt to find the other man and demand he return the dinosaur to him. Now what was he going to do? Gus' birthday was only two days away! There was no way he would be able to find one of those fucking toy dinosaurs before then – he was convinced there wasn't a single Dimetrodon in the entire state! Why did his son have to be so _intellectual? _Why couldn't he just like Hot Wheels or toy trains, for fuck's sake? He would have to ask Lindsay for advice now – he had to take _something_ Gus would like to his birthday party. The damn nerve of that other man! Huffing in great frustration and finally admitting defeat, he rubbed his hands over his auburn hair and started the Jeep up to head back to Kinnetik.

* * *

_Sugar Plum Cake Design and Party Planning Shop_

"Hey, Baby!" Em greeted the other man in relief as Justin rushed into the store. "I was getting worried about you. You're cutting it kind of close, aren't you? Did you run into some trouble?"

"Em, you have NO idea," Justin laughed. "You would never believe it," he assured him, as he brushed some errant hair back from his bangs and grabbed a nearby, well-worn apron to hurriedly put it on. "But I got what I went for – ta dah!" He made an elaborate show of pulling the prized Dimetrodon out of the green tote bag to show it to his friend. "Here is it," he said, smiling.

Emmett stared at it with concern. "_That's a _Dimetrodon_?" _he asked his friend. As Justin nodded at him, smiling, Em frowned. "Uh…Baby, are you sure you can do that? That looks…impossible."

Justin chuckled. "Well, I admit…..it will be a challenge. But you know how much I enjoy challenges. I can do this – or I'll die trying," he vowed, grinning. Rubbing his slender hands briskly in anticipation, he advised his friend, "Speaking of which – I'd better get cracking. I've got to get this done in TWO days. Wish me luck!" he asked, as he scurried back to the rear of the shop to get started.

"You can do it, Baby!" Emmett clapped, encouraging him, as he turned back to the counter to make some calls for his next party assignment; he and Justin were coordinating the cake and activities for the same party, as they often did. In the six months they had set up shop together, they had found their own, particular talents in artistic design and party planning, respectively, to be a perfect combination, and their business had been growing steadily. Justin's unique talent at being able to transform any object into an edible work of art had caught the eyes of several well-heeled patrons in town, and as a result, they had more business right now than they could handle. But it was allowing Emmett to pursue his goal of being a top-tier party planner and Justin to continue studying art at PIFA, so they were both willing to keep putting in the long, hard hours demanded of them to keep succeeding.

* * *

_Later that Afternoon - Mel and Lindsay's House_

"Brian, will you quit pouting?" Lindsay clucked at him in amusement. "Gus will just be happy that you're attending his birthday. He won't care about the dinosaur."

"But _I_ do!" Brian snarled. "I had it in my hands, Lindsay! And this…this _little blond chipmunk_ fucking stole it from me!" As Lindsay laughed, he sternly told her, "It's not funny, Lindsay! Now I don't have it to give to Gus!"

Lindsay continued to giggle. "Do you feel bad because you don't have it to give to Gus, or because the old Kinney magic didn't have an effect on this other man?" As Brian glared at her, Lindsay added perceptively, "Sounds like you met your match, Mr. Kinney."

Brian narrowed his eyebrows in irritation. "I don't think so," he said haughtily. Lindsay, however, thought he looked a little embarrassed as he admitted, "He just caught me in a weak moment, that's all."

"Uh, huh," she replied knowingly with a smile. "Well, at any rate…..I will expect you to be there, _Dimetrodon _or not." Brian twisted his mouth in resignation; he knew he would have to show up regardless or he would never hear the end of it, from Lindsay or, worse, Mel – he definitely wasn't going to provide any more fodder to Lindsay's mate about his deficiencies as a father.

"I'll tell you what," Lindsay said, as she walked over to place her hands on Brian's shoulders to comfort him in his time of "loss." You come with me to pick up Gus' cake tomorrow and I'll help you find another gift for his birthday."

Before Brian could protest – actually, the protest quickly died on his lips, because he currently had NO idea what else he could get his son – Lindsay thought of another reason for Brian to come with her. "By the way, you really need to come with me anyway because of Michael. Weren't you trying to come up with something spectacular for his grand opening party at Babylon? Well, I have an idea."

Brian couldn't imagine what Gus' birthday cake had to do with the party he had promised to throw for Michael to advertise his comic and collectible shop's upcoming grand opening. "That's a scary thought," Brian answered sarcastically, as Lindsay lightly smacked him on the arm. "What the fuck does Gus' cake have to do with MY party?"

"Well, you said you wanted something different to make the party stand out. Then you _have_ to see Gus' cake. One of our best customers at the gallery recommended this designer. I met him last week and saw some of his creations – they're _unbelievable_, Brian – he can design a cake out of _anything_! He's incredibly talented," Lindsay raved. "Not to mention cute, too," she added teasingly.

"Really," Brian said dubiously. "Sorry to disappoint you, Wendy, but I prefer to pick up my tarts at one of the clubs."

Lindsay rolled her eyes. "Well, suit yourself. But you don't get what I'm saying….You wanted to use – who was it – as your theme?" She racked her brain, trying to come up with the answer. "Captain Astro?" she finally remembered.

As Brian nodded, she continued. "Well, I'm telling you, Brian, this man is phenomenal! How would Michael feel if you presented him with a _Captain Astro_ superhero cake at his grand opening party?" She raised her eyebrows at him in a silent question.

Brian had to admit; Lindsay had a point. If this man was half as talented as she was gushing about, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. It would certainly be a one-of-a-kind attraction, and would certainly create a lot of buzz – just the right type of attention his friend could use to get his business off on the right track. Mikey had always been there for him as a friend when he needed him; the least he could do was make sure his grand opening party at Babylon was unforgettable.

"You know…That might not be half bad," Brian conceded, as Lindsay grinned smugly. "When do you go to pick up Gus' cake?"

"I have to be there at 4:00 so they'll be there to help me load it into the car," she advised him; she figured between the combination of wanting to help both his son and his best friend, Brian wouldn't be able to say no.

"Okay….You've got yourself a helper," Brian decided. "But I expect some fantastic gift ideas as a tradeoff. I'm not about to go to my Sonny Boy's birthday party without something that will knock his toddler socks off."

"Don't worry, _Dad_…..I'll have you looking like the Father of the Year before I get through," she assured him, as she placed a friendly arm around her friend's shoulders.

* * *

_Sugar Plum Cake Design and Party Planning Shop – We Stir up Excitement!_

_Oh, Brother,_ Brian thought, as he read the shop's name and motto written in candy-like script above the front of the small but neatly designed storefront. The maroon awning was constructed of canvas but was designed to look like it was actually made out of licorice, and the wide, spacious windows facing out onto the street were full of several, unbelievably-intricate cakes that apparently this culinary artiste Lindsay kept raving about had designed. Brian had to agree that they were unbelievable in their creativity and complexity; it was hard to believe they were actually edible due to their incredible realism. Every little detail had been meticulously etched into each cake, and even the smallest of details were not overlooked. Some of the cakes even had moving parts. Brian had to admit he had _never_ seen cakes like these before; they made most of the party cakes he had seen look like they had come out of an Easy Bake Oven instead. After looking over the man's creations, he was actually beginning to believe he could make one of Captain Astro.

Noticing Lindsay's look of I TOLD you so, he smirked as they entered the store; a bell hanging over the door jingled as they opened it and walked in. After a few seconds, a taller, dark-haired man came rushing up from the back; Brian noticed to his amusement that the man was wearing a tight, shiny tangerine orange long-sleeved t-shirt and purple pants. He found himself wondering how in the world someone who dressed like _that_ could have good enough taste to create some of the incredible works currently displayed in the store's windows until Lindsay provided the explanation for him.

"Lindsay!" the man gushed to his friend, rushing over to give her a kiss on both cheeks as Brian merely stared at the flashily-dressed man; he fleetingly thought of hastily putting his sunglasses on to tone down some of the glare coming off the man's questionable fashion attire before Lindsay introduced the two of them.

"Hi, Emmett," she greeted him with a smile, graciously accepting the man's affectionate greeting. "I'd like you to meet Gus' father. Brian, this is Emmett Honeycutt – he's the party planner for the shop and co-owner. Em – this is Brian Kinney."

"It's SO nice to meet Gussie's dad," Em enthused. "He is such a cute little boy!" he exclaimed, his smile wide and eyes twinkling as he rapidly unleashed a torrent of words. "I met him at another birthday party a few months ago. He was just the most adorable thing…..Of course, Lindsay didn't bring him in here," he assured Brian. "She didn't want to spoil the surprise…..He is just going to absolutely adore his birthday cake!" He turned to Lindsay as he clapped enthusiastically and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Just wait 'til you _see _it_!_ I was afraid our little Picasso wouldn't have enough time to get it done, but I should have known he would. And I must say – he has outdone himself this time! It is to DIE for – at least if you're a certain little boy!"

Brian stared agape at the other man – he had somehow managed to say all that without coming up for a breath. He had never quite seen or heard anyone like this person. But he was relieved to figure out that this apparently was NOT the cake designer – if he was, he would have had serious doubts about assigning him to make a cake for Michael's party, impressive designs in the window or not. Now a party planner? Brian could totally see this man doing that – he looked like he was made to party, he smirked to himself.

"Well, so nice to meet Gus' dad," the man repeated, before he finally came up for air briefly. That gave Brian just enough of an opening to make the polite, obligatory acknowledgment of _Nice to Meet You _before they moved on to the more critical part of their visit – getting Gus' cake and getting the hell out of there before this man went on about _something _else totally inconsequential.

"Uh….Lindsay?" Brian asked, his patience quickly wearing out. "The cake?" he reminded her.

"Oh! Yeah," Lindsay acknowledged sheepishly. "Is it done, Em?"

Emmett smiled broadly. "It _sure_ is – right on time. He actually just finished it a few minutes ago. Wait until you _see _it!" he advised her, his eyes sparkling. "I think it's the best one he's done yet!"

Brian stood there, trying hard not to show his impatience with this man. But he was tired after working all day, and he wanted nothing more than to pick up the fucking cake and get out of there. "The cake?" he repeated. "Can we get it now? We have to get going," he informed the other man somewhat curtly, stealing a quick glance at his Rolex in a not-so-subtle hint that he was ready to leave - now.

"Of course," Emmett answered professionally. "I'll go get it for you." Brian heard the man call out a name just then. "Justin?"

From the back of the room, he heard a response that somehow sounded familiar, but he had no idea why.

"Yeah, Em?"

"Mrs. Peterson's here for Gus' cake."

"It's ready," Brian heard the man confirm. "Can you come back and help me carry it out?" Again, Brian had the inexplicable feeling of déjà vu that he had heard that voice somewhere before; he scratched his head a little in confusion.

"I'll be right there, Baby," Emmett answered, as he excused himself and quickly rushed back to a separate compartment at the rear of the store.

A couple of minutes later, Brian watched as Emmett and another man came slowly shuffling out of the backroom with a giant, four-foot statue of an unbelievably real likeness of the infamous Dimetrodon toy that Brian had tried to desperately hold onto earlier today. He was stunned – it was absolutely the most incredible cake he had ever seen. The top fins of the dinosaur were etched in painstaking detail, and the sharp claws of the beast were clearly defined and accurate down to the smallest toenail. The dinosaur was majestically sitting atop a mountainous landscape with a small lake stationed next to it. It was fucking incredible; Brian's mouth fell open in amazement and admiration. Lindsay was right – there was no doubt in his mind that if the man could design and carry out such a fantastic, edible of work, he was the man for the job to make a Captain Astro cake.

Lindsay gasped in delight as she got her first glimpse of Gus' cake. Smiling in wonder, she cried in awe, "Justin….This is wonderful! I can't believe how real it looks – Gus is going to be blown away by this! He'll be afraid to _eat _it! I'll have to get a picture of this before anyone touches it – I'm going to hate to have anyone eat it. How can I ever thank you?" she asked him.

Brian still couldn't see the actual artist's face, because he was trying to maneuver the cake with Emmett's help onto a nearby table and was still hidden by the towering confection. But apparently finally satisfied that the cake was securely ensconced on the buffet table, Brian heard the man sigh in relief as he gently helped place it down and release his hold on it.

Brian could see only part of the cake designer as he remained briefly behind the cake; he noticed the man quickly brushing his flour-laded hands onto his apron and wiping them off before he walked out from behind his creation. A few seconds later, however, his eyes narrowed and his mouth hung open in speechless, stunned shock and annoyance as he was able to finally get a good look at the cake designer, who was so busy greeting Lindsay and blushing at her effusive praise that he hadn't turned to look at the brunet yet. It was _HIM_ – the dinosaur thief.


	2. Chapter 2: Oil and Water

"Justin, you _OUTDID_ yourself!" Lindsey cried, continuing to lavish him with accolades. "I can't thank you enough," she repeated, as she gave him a joyous hug and continued to stare in wonder at the dinosaur cake. The detail on the cake was exquisite – from his sharp, razor teeth to its multi-scaled hump down to its rubbery tail. "I _knew_ you could do it, though…..In fact, I've been singing your praises to Gus' dad…he needs a cake for a special occasion, too." Turning to look at Brian, who had a strange look on his face, Lindsay said courteously, "Brian, this is Justin Taylor - isn't he wonderful?" As everyone turned to look at Brian, Justin finally had a chance to notice the stranger standing by Lindsey's side. He was stunned to see that it was his perpetrator from earlier today at the store.

The brunet's face had darkened in instant recognition the moment he had gotten a good look at the cake designer; he simply snarled one word out loud. "You!" He stared agape at the unbelievable irony.

Lindsey bounced her attention from her friend to the talented cake artist in confusion; the tension between the two men was thick as Brian glared at the cake _artiste extraordinaire_, who merely gazed back at the brunet with an innocent look on his face.

"Brian!" Lindsey scolded him, astonished. "What has gotten _into_ you?" she peered at him with puzzlement and embarrassment. When she had asked him to accompany her to pick up Gus' cake, she had certainly never expected him to react like _this_. Just what was going on here?

"_I'll_ tell you what's gotten into me," he retorted, his hands on his hips as he continued to stare daggers at Justin. "Lindsey….meet the _little blonde chipmunk_," he announced grandly with a flourish, his eyes slanting with aggravation. He was shocked, however, when he heard her actually _laugh_ at his statement. That was _not_ the reaction he had expected from her.

"Oh, Justin……," she giggled, turning to acknowledge the cake designer. "You really put a huge damper on Brian's plans for Gus' birthday gift," she informed him. "He told me about the _Great_ _Dimetrodon_ _Kidnapping_ at Steel City," she explained. "I'm impressed - there aren't too many men who can stand up to the great Brian Kinney."

Justin scrutinized the elegant, tall brunet man still glaring at him; he hadn't been so intent on his quest earlier in the store that he hadn't failed to notice how attractive his rival dinosaur _hunter_ had been. However, as he unexpectedly found himself with the opportunity to take a more leisurely examination of the man, he had time to notice more details – the slightly tousled auburn hair with touches of blond tinged with a little red, the flashing hazel eyes that were currently large and expressive with specks of gold, the long tapered fingers on the toned hands. Not to mention the body – sculpted, muscular but not overly so. A _very _classy, handsome package – at least outwardly. Too bad the man didn't have the manners to go along with it, he thought with consternation.

"Well, I guess you two have _met_ already," Lindsey declared, with just a hint of glee. Any man that could face Brian Kinney – and come out triumphant – had to be pretty special. _This might be interesting_, she thought. She would have never thought of the two of them together, but all of a sudden she found herself contemplating just _that_. She knew Michael had always carried a not-so-secret torch for Brian's affections, but she also knew he was wasting his time. He needed someone passionate, creative, and intelligent – someone who could keep up with him. Maybe someone like this talented man standing in front of her?

Brian corrected her. "He didn't _put one over on me_," he clarified icily. "He fucking stole it out from_ under _me," he contended, scorn dripping from his voice as the two continued to lock horns.

Justin snorted. "Oh, _come on_! I had that dinosaur before you did, and you _know_ it!" He shrugged his shoulders casually. "Besides, turns out it was going for the same cause, anyhow. What's the big deal?" He couldn't understand why the other man was so upset – it was just a _toy_.

Brian, however, was not so easily appeased. "The _big deal_ is that _I _was going to give it to my son – NOT let some half-baked _twit _give it to him!" He crossed his arms over his chest in an air of superiority; Gus was _HIS_ son…how dare this man intrude?

Justin shook his head in disgust; how totally immature and rude this man was. Didn't he realize that he needed the dinosaur as a model for _his own son's _CAKE? Shaking his head in contempt, he turned abruptly on his heel and walked back toward the rear of the shop, as Emmett sputtered after him, "Baby, wait! We have to get Gus's cake out to the car for his _birthday!_"

"Let his big, bad daddy _take care of it!_" he shouted over his shoulder as he tromped back to his small design studio set up in a corner of the shop's rear. This was the "guts" of his part of the operation; the back room held not only two large, industrial size ovens and several yards of counter space for assembling his finished product, it also had room for a couple of drafting tables where he actually designed his one-of-a-kind cakes. As he looked around and finally located what he had been searching for, he snatched up the object and returned to the store's display area.

Now clutching the much-sought-after and ballyhooed prize firmly in his slender hand, he shouted, "Here!" reaching over to roughly take the other man's arm and slam the toy dinosaur down into Brian's now outstretched one. "And good luck _wrapping _it!" With a growl, he pivoted and stomped back toward the rear of the store, muttering under his breath and leaving an astonished Brian, amused Lindsey, and mortified Emmett in his wake.

"Well," Emmett said awkwardly, his eyes darting back and forth between Gus' parents as he bit his lip nervously. "I….guess that about wraps things up……Was there….. _anything else_?" He asked tentatively. He had most of the party planned out already; that was, if Lindsey still _wanted_ him to do it. He held his breath in dread as he waited anxiously for her response. He fervently hoped that the two men's dislike for each other didn't just put the kibosh on his exclusive party planning arrangement with Gus' mom.

Lindsey smiled back at him reassuringly, self-conscious over the outburst Brian had just displayed. _Would the man NEVER grow up?_ Afraid her friend was going to bite his nose off to spite his face, she began, "Actually, Em…..there _is_ one other item we needed to take care of." She glanced over at Brian pointedly, eyebrows raised expectantly as she waited for him to take over.

"What?" he snarled; he was still peeved over his struggle for dinosaur superiority earlier at the party goods store. What an impertinent (but adorable), smug (but adorable), and arrogant (but adorable) man!

"You wanted to ask Justin about the cake, remember?" The expression she received from Brian made it hard for her to keep a straight face – it was sort of a cross between pained and insulted.

Brian gave her a look like Donald Trump had finally gone to get a decent haircut. "Are you _shitting_ me, Lindsey? Do you really think I'd want anything else to do with that insufferable twink _NOW_?"

"That _insufferable twink_, as you put it, is far and away the most talented cake designer in town," she pointed out, way too accurately for Brian's taste. "If you really want to knock everyone's socks off – or _anything else_," she added, getting a smirk from her friend, "You'll swallow your stubborn male pride and ask him to do it anyway. Or is Michael not that important to you?" She knew Brian could be obstinate, but she also knew that he always demanded the best in whatever he did – and he was not going to find a better, more creative or talented man in the entire state to design Michael's Captain Astro cake than Justin. And something told Lindsey that the man knew that, albeit grudgingly. Now she just had to wait to see how long it took Brian to come down off his high horse and _ask_ him.

_Ten….nine….eight….seven…six….five…. "Oh, all RIGHT!" _he finally answered testily, as Lindsey smiled smugly. Turning to Emmett, he asked, "Will you go into the back and ask the _Pillsbury Doughboy_ to come out here for a minute? I have another assignment for him – if he's _UP_ to it," he smirked.

Emmett's eyes lit up; by the looks of this man, this could turn out to be a lucrative deal. And maybe, just maybe, he would get to indulge in being the party planner for whatever he had in mind. "Not a problem," he hurriedly assured him as he pivoted on his feet and rushed back to the rear of the store.

He found his partner hunched over his drafting desk, hard at work on his next cake design. One of the art patrons at Lindsey's gallery had requested a rectangular sheet cake designed to resemble Monet's _Water lilies_ painting. At least Justin figured that one should be pretty simple, since he already had the basic design to start with – he would merely be copying the original piece of art.

He glanced up as he heard Emmett rushing back toward him. "Put that drawing pencil down, Baby," he exclaimed, bubbly with anticipation. "You've got another request up front. Come on!" he beseeched the other man. "I think this one's prepared to pay handsomely, too." Emmett decided it wouldn't be prudent to tell Justin it was Brian Kinney who wanted the cake or that the man was even still in the shop; he figured if he could at least get his friend to come back out to the showcase area, hopefully he could be talked into it – somehow. He knew Justin wasn't won over simply by waving big dollar signs in front of him, but he was hoping maybe Lindsey could help persuade him – the two seemed to have developed a friendly bond and Justin truly enjoyed being around the man's son. As Justin hesitated a little too long, though, Emmett got worried. "Come _on_, Baby!" he repeated urgently, reaching down and grabbing his friend's arm now.

"Okay, okay, Em," Justin answered, deciding to humor him; he was just relieved that Gus' dad must have left already; what a jerk – albeit a _sexy _jerk. "I'm coming." He smiled congenially at his friend's enthusiasm as he rose from his chair and tucked his charcoal pencil behind his ear. As he followed Em back out to the front, he mentally ticked off all the tasks he needed to finish in the next few days for work and school: design and decorate the Monet cake, finish his sketching assignments for PIFA, and fill in for one night shift at the deli. And now Emmett said he had another new order? Sighing, he thought, maybe it would just be better if he slit his wrists and got it over with as he obediently followed the other man back to the showroom.

Closely trailing behind Emmett, he followed the taller man as he brushed the separating curtains aside and emerged back out into the showroom area. He abruptly stopped, however, as he quickly noticed who the _new_ customer was. "No way," he snapped as he glared at the other man and frowned at Emmett who had misled him, firmly intending to turn around and get back to his other design; he had had _more_ than enough of this cocky man today.

Brian saw the other man's reaction and _knew _this was a bad idea from the start; but he also knew this man was apparently the best cake designer around. And his friend Mikey deserved the best. Besides, _any_ man could be bought, one way or the other. He was surprised, then, to see the man actually turn around and boldly rebuff him as he turned to once again return to the back of the store.

Justin turned to go but fortunately stopped, however, when he heard the arrogant man call out, "I'll pay you _double_ your normal fee."

"Humpff," Justin snorted, insulted by the man's audacity and greatly perturbed by the man's nerve. "You think you can just _buy_ me for the right _price_?" _You're probably used to getting what you want, aren't you, Mr. Kinney? Well, there's always an exception to that rule._

Emmett, standing beside him, gasped in stunned shock, muttering under his breath to his friend, who must have gone nuts, "Justin…...You can't afford to pass this _up!_ Don't be _crazy!_ You've got him on the hook – reel him in, Baby! Momma's got a lot of dancing clothes to buy and you've got _tuition!"_ Justin smirked despite himself; he and Emmett had agreed going in to split all the proceeds 50-50 no matter _who_ brought in the money on a given day, but their _needs_ for the money were vastly different. Nevertheless, he was having difficulty accepting _any_ amount of money from this pompous, arrogant, _I-always-get-what-I-want_ sort of man.

"Justin……This _would_ be a wonderful opportunity for you," Lindsey counseled him. "Brian's the owner of _Babylon_, the dance club down near Liberty Street. That's where the party's being held – it would certainly showcase your talents and no doubt bring in a lot of business for you and Emmett," she added temptingly. Lindsey was very fond of both men, and extremely impressed with Justin's artistic talent; she was hopeful that the young man would see this opportunity for what it was – a chance to let a large part of the gay community see his work and hopefully clamor for more. And if somehow the two men could meet halfway, _look out, _she thought…..she could feel the sparks even from _her_ vantage point.

Emmett positively danced on his heel and did a little clap in astonishment. "Babylon! I _love_ that club!" he gushed. Looking over at Brian, who simply stood there impatiently waiting for his answer, he told him, "_I_ didn't know you owned that club! They simply have the _best_ music and the _best_ selection of drinks! I absolutely _adore_ the Cosmos there!"

Justin rolled his eyes; his friend was laying it on just a little too thick for his taste. He still wasn't impressed; if he had to get extra business by catering to _this_ man, he decided he'd rather just stay a pauper. "I'm sorry, _Mr. Kinney_," he said curtly, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. "I'm going to be too busy the next few days to take on any more additional assignments."

Now Brian was determined – _every man has his price_. "Oh, come on, _Doughboy_," he retorted, as he looked around the shop. There were several real-life samples of Justin's design work scattered throughout the store, but even with its neat, pleasant appearance, you wouldn't ever mistake the place for a palace. It was obvious the two men had cobbled together whatever equipment and furnishings they could scrounge up, probably at the local Goodwill Store. "Let's be real here. No matter how talented your little artistic fingers might be, you're never going to bring in the right clientele unless you publicize your talents to the right audience. I'm giving you the opportunity to do so. If you're not _perceptive_ enough to realize that, then it's _YOUR _fucking loss, NOT mine."

"For your information, _Mr. Kinney_, Emmett and I have managed to do quite well for six months without your help, _thank you very much_. Now if you'll excuse me, I have _REAL_ work to do." He said determinedly, as he once again prepared to return to his design work.

Brian was perplexed; he wasn't used to taking no for an answer, or _getting_ a no, for that matter. And while he absolutely hated to admit it, Lindsey was right – by the looks of the dinosaur cake this man had made for his son, as well as the other design samples displayed in the small shop, this artist was the right man – maybe the _only_ man – who could make a Captain Astro cake the way it _should_ be made. And he wanted to make sure that Michael's party was a big, fat, fucking smash – he owed him that much.

Just as Justin was about to escape back to his design studio in the back, Brian swallowed his pride and offered something he hoped would be irresistible to _both _men. "I'll make up an advertising campaign for your store that will bring in more fucking business than you can possibly handle," he boasted confidently.

Justin turned around and smirked. "I thought you were a _club boy_," he taunted the other man, eyebrows raised in challenge.

Brian glared at him. "Club _OWNER_, Blondie. Get it _right_." As Justin simply shrugged at him in a _whatever_ type of response, he informed him, "I also happen to be the owner of Kinnetik – perhaps you've heard of it?"

Emmett stared at his friend, perplexed; the name meant nothing to him. To Justin, however, he was _very_ familiar with it. Through his graphic design classes at school, he had heard about the advertising company Kinney was bragging about. They had learned about his success during lectures where they were challenged to come up with competing advertising designs for products from some of the man's larger clients. He had learned Kinnetik was an extremely successful, multi-million dollar company. So while he found this man to be way too sure of himself, smug, and cocky, perhaps the man had _reason_ to be.

Emmett peered over at him, pleading in his eyes. Justin sighed and shook his head. "I'm _not_ promising anything, mind you," he stated firmly. "But what exactly do you need done?" Emmett clapped his hands, hopeful that things were actually going to work out.

Brian smirked. "I need a cake with a superheroes-type theme for a friend of mine who is getting ready to open up a comic and collectible shop on Liberty Avenue. He's a big fan, especially, of Captain Astro, so I would want that figure featured prominently on the cake. Maybe even include Mikey as a guest star." At Justin's puzzled look, he explained, "That's my friend who the party's for. Anyway, as Lindsey mentioned, the party's being held at my club, and I'm expecting at least 500 guests. Can you accommodate that many people?" He looked over at Justin, almost challenging him to meet his demands.

"Of course," Justin answered confidently. "I've made _several_ cakes for parties at least that size and _larger_. That's not a problem," he assured him, nonplussed. "When do you need it?" he asked in a business-like tone. Something told him when it came to this man, it was best to keep things on a strictly professional level, because something told him that this man could be _dangerous_, in a sexy kind of way, he decided.

"I need it by Wednesday," he advised him calmly, as if it were the most simple request in the world.

"Wednesday!" Justin exploded in disbelief. "This is _SUNDAY! _How do you possibly expect me to have it designed and created in _THREE DAYS?_ Are you fucking out of your _mind?"_ Who did this man think he was – Houdini?

Brian shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Oh, I'm sorry, _Blondie_," he told the other man condescendingly, "I thought you knew the meaning of _integrity _and_ hard work_. As in doing whatever it takes to get the job done. As in the customer's always right. I guess _I_ was _wrong_, though, wasn't I?" He clucked in mock disappointment. Internally, though, he found that he was actually _enjoying_ this banter of exchanges between him and this cute _Pillsbury Doughboy_. He noticed that when the other man was angry, his large, expressive eyes virtually flashed with a type of blue fire – it was rather _attractive_, in a peculiar sort of way.

Justin huffed indignantly, "This has _NOTHING_ to do with having integrity or being a hard worker! How do you think I work here, go to school, and help out at a deli? By being a fucking _goof-off?_ I can't change how many hours there are in a given day, or grow a couple of extra hands…..You're asking for the _impossible_!" he declared, shaking his head in astonishment.

"It's _not_ impossible," Brian argued. "You just have to refocus your priorities, that's all….you just forgo all sleep and any fucking," he told him reasonably. He noticed to his amusement that the blond actually blushed a little at the last part of his statement, just like a little virgin schoolboy. He also noticed the startled sapphire eyes and slightly pink tinge to his face were almost irrestible, but he wasn't about to tell _him_ that.

"I'm telling you….I _know_ how long it takes to design and create a cake like you're requesting, and it's going to take more than 3 days," he reported. "Even if I _could_ design one right away, I would need help with putting it together afterward. _That_ is what takes so long." This man had no concept obviously of the man hours required to finish a cake of that magnitude, even though Justin had to admit the extra money could certainly come in handy right now. Between the books he had just had to purchase, and his tuition that was due soon, money was extremely tight. He just didn't know, though, how he could possibly take advantage of this potentially lucrative opportunity and still do the job right. Being a perfectionist when it came to his art, he knew he would be disappointed in himself if he didn't create a cake that lived up to his own expectations.

Lindsey's eyes gleamed with mischief. As she peered over at Emmett and winked at him, she asked, "Brian, since you're the one who needs the big favor, why don't _you_ volunteer to help him? I'm sure he could show you what to do…..right, Em?" She stared at him intently, hoping somehow that he would understand what she was trying to do. Her instincts, and her knowledge of Brian, especially, told her that these two men were more alike than they knew, and she was dying to find out whether she was right. She only hoped Emmett would take the hint. After all, if they could talk Justin into designing the cake for Brian, _Emmett _would undoubtedly financially benefit, too.

Justin snorted. Yeah, he'd _love_ to show him what to do….._and_ where to GO. He wasn't too worried, though, because he figured there was no way in hell the man would ever agree to work with him. And after the attitude he had displayed, he wasn't too disappointed by that, either…..although he had to admit – the man was damned attractive. Of course, he was sure Kinney _knew_ THAT, too.

As he anticipated, Brian immediately began to protest vehemently. _"_You have GOT to be fucking _kidding_ me_, _right?" he asked, eyes blazing. "Let him find some kid that likes to play with _Playdoh_ and let HIM help him with it! I have more _important_ things to do, like running my own business!"

Justin huffed in resentment. "What do you think _I _do?" he snorted. You think I just wave a magic wand at a glob of dough and, _poof!_ a cake suddenly appears?, he asked, highly offended. "If you do, _Mr. Kinney_, you're seriously mistaken! You need to walk a mile in _my_ shoes for a change."

"No, thanks," Brian curtly retorted. "My feet have never so much as _touched_ a pair of K-Mart sneakers." As Justin rolled his eyes at him, Brian added, "Look,I don't fucking care HOW you get the cake done – even if you have to recruit _Martha Stewart_! If I'm going to pay _double_ for your _services_, then I expect the cake to be done on time – that means any way it _needs_ to be done!" He looked over at Emmett. "Isn't this _flashy beanstalk_ the person who normally helps you anyway? After all, that's what a partnership is, isn't it?" he demanded.

Justin thought, _as if YOU would have any inkling what a partnership WAS. _He was about to issue an scathing remark of his own before Emmett jumped in. "I'm sorry, Baby," he told Justin apologetically, "Normally you know I would be glad to help. But I have to finish setting up for Gus' party tomorrow, and then it's on to the impressionist art gallery bash this weekend. I just don't have any extra time to spare, as much as we could use the extra business." Looking over at Lindsey, who silently nodded, (_that a boy, Emmett!)_ he added, "It's not hard to help set the cake up……it seems to me if Mr. Kinney really wants the cake so badly by Wednesday, it's the _least _he could do." Em wasn't quite sure if she knew what she was getting Justin into, but she apparently thought for some outlandish reason, the two men should get to know each other better – that is, if they didn't _kill_ each other first.

Brian huffed angrily, frustrated with the direction this whole conversation was taking. If he was honest with himself, he probably _could_ help Taylor with his cake for Mikey's birthday after he left Kinnetik on Tuesday and after Gus' party tomorrow. But it unnerved him to no end that he would be relegated to such a lowly task, and with such an irascible, stubborn, little (albeit cute as a button) _twat_. It seemed, however, that unless he offered to pitch in, the cake would not get done for Mikey and he simply would not be satisfied with second best when it came to his best friend.

He shook his head slightly in resignation. Breathing out a short burst of feigned indifference, he said dryly, "I suppose I _could_ come by here Tuesday evening and help you finish constructing the cake," he told the younger man with great difficulty. "But let me be clear – I do _not_ do anything to do with flour, icing, or cutesy little flowers or bows. I am simply coming here to help you put the cake _together_. Got it?"

Justin eyes looked upward; _God help me_. Letting out a frustrated breath, he reluctantly agreed to let the man assist him with the final stages of the cake. _Heaven forbid, though, if the man gets so much as a speck of frosting on his Armani suit_. All hell would probably break loose in that case…Maybe a bib would be prudent……or better yet, _DUCT TAPE_.

"I'll try to contain my excitement over your offer," he responded sarcastically.

"What time?" Brian asked impatiently, ignoring the blond's derision; he walked toward the door with the much-sought-after toy dinosaur still in his hand. He had to go home now and figure out how to wrap the damn thing, as the blond had so gracioiusly pointed out.

Justin grimaced; this was going to be a rather interesting experience, no doubt – for _both_ of them, he suspected. "About 7," he informed the other man.

"Come on, Lindsey," Brian demanded, as he grabbed her hand to leave. "Let's get the fucking cake out to the car and get going." Pointing to Emmett, he said, "You – the ballerina. Help me get this out," he ordered, pointing to Justin's dinosaur creation. Justin rolled his eyes in disgust as Emmett flushed a little red but nonetheless picked up his side of the cake display board and slowly helped Brian take the cake out to Lindsey's car as she held the storefront door open for them. Just before she left, she turned and gave Justin a soft "see you later" and a mysterious, cat-that-ate-the-canary smile before she, too, walked over to the car and, after seeing the cake safely tucked into the back, got into the passenger side.

As Brian walked around to the driver's seat, he told Emmett, "Tell _Blondie_ I'll be here Tuesday at 7:00, and that I expect him to be _ready _for me," he demanded, as he quickly put Lindsey's car in gear and pulled out into traffic. Emmett distinctly thought he heard Lindsey urging him to slow down for the cake's sake before he shook his head in amusement and just a little trepidation. As he hurried back into the shop to finish up the rest of Gus' birthday preparations, he couldn't help thinking, _I hope you know what you're doing, Lindsey – I'm not sure oil and water are going to mix._ He suspected, however, that they were about to find out.


	3. Chapter 3: Gus' Birthday Party

_Monday Afternoon – Sugar Plum Cake Design & Party Planning Shop_

Justin heard the overhead bell jingle at the front of the store as he leaned intently over his drafting table, feverishly trying to draw just the right angle to Captain Astro's head. "Emmett?" he called out. "Can you get that?" he asked, not bothering to take his eyes off his work. He had been stooped over the damn table now for at least an hour, a full-length photo of the gold and black clad comic book hero clipped to the top of the drawing lamp for reference. He was pleased with his depiction of a nighttime skyline scene of Pittsburgh for Captain Astro's flyover, but he was having an extremely difficult time drawing the superhero's head shape exactly the way he wanted it. _Too round,_ he frowned to himself, shaking his head.

He about jumped out of his skin and fell off the chair when he felt a warm breath caressing his left ear and heard an emphatic voice stating disapprovingly, "It's too _round_."

"Shit!" A perturbed Justin shouted, as Brian now leapt out of the way, startled. "Where did _YOU_ come from?" The blond asked, glaring at the other man as he struggled to right himself back up onto the chair seat.

Brian smirked. _I hope you're more adept at handling Mikey's cake than you are keeping yourself upright._ "Well, the door was open and the bell was ringing a cheery little tune, so I came on in," he explained, his hands held out to the side as if it were the simplest explanation in the world. "I didn't see Tinkerbell out front, so I decided to come on back to the Batcave."

Justin rolled his eyes in exasperation; he had hoped to avoid the sarcastic, cocky brunet's scathing company until at least tomorrow night. "To what do I owe the _pleasure?"_ He quipped, the sarcasm dripping off his voice.

_Well, aren't you just the most charming little thing?_ Brian thought, biting back a retort about the other man's company not exactly being a bed of roses, either. He chose to ignore it for the moment, however; he knew they were in a time crunch to get Mikey's cake done on time so he decided to stay focused for the time being. "I thought you might need a photo of Mikey for his guest appearance," he explained.

Justin scrunched up his face and peered up at the man as if he had grown another head. "_Guest appearance_," he repeated densely. What the hell was this man prattling about?

"On the _cake_, Doughboy," he snapped, waving his hands rapidly in front of one of the bluest, clearest pair of bright blue eyes he thought he had ever seen. He quickly crushed the lesbionic thought from his mind as he explained curtly, "You know…..that ridiculously high-carb fucking confection you're supposed to be making for my friend's party Wednesday? The one with Mikey featured in a small, albeit extremely important, uncredited role as his sidekick? Hello?" He clicked his fingers in front of the other man's eyes, hoping to snap the man out of his apparent dazed condition.

"Hey!" He pulled his stinging hand back quickly and massaged it as he felt the aftermath of the blond soundly smacking one of his own slender hands across his knuckles. _He sure packs a wallop_ _to be such a little thing. Although SOME parts do appear to be somewhat larger than the others, _he thought to himself, as he took advantage of the other man's temporary glance aside to study his lithe, compact body just a little more studiously.

"I would have thought you might have learned your lesson the other day about putting your hands where they don't belong," the artist warned him pointedly, a serious look on his face, although Brian could have sworn he might have seen just a hint of a mischievous twinkling challenge in the fiery eyes.

Leaning down with his hands on the drafting table so that his body was only inches from the other man, he whispered huskily, "Don't worry, _Doughboy……._I only put my hands where they're _wanted."_ He could have sworn he saw the other man shiver as his comment generated all kinds of imaginary journeys before he grinned triumphantly and rose to his full six foot, 1 ½ inch frame.

Justin quickly slipped his casual, nonchalant mask back onto his face. Despite his best intentions, he could feel his body responding to this man's almost palpable energy. _Dark….sexy…..dangerous_. Just at the sound of that drawling, smooth voice, his could feel his face flushing and his pulse speeding up. He could also feel _another _part of his anatomy threatening to rebel against him if he didn't get himself under control. What was that this man had said to Emmett? Oh, yeah….right. _Tinkerbell. Beanstalk. Ballerina. Think pretty, GIRLY things. Lace and pink FRILLY things. _He sighed silently in relief as he felt his body slowing returning to a more normal rhythm before he dared to fire back with a volley of his own.

"Well, _ex-cuuuuse me_ if I forgot the cutesy name of your best friend," he retorted, his voice icy. "I know damn fucking well what my assignment is, _Mr. Kinney_," he verified stonily, his voice slowly rising in irritation. "I not only have it etched in charcoal, but it will be forever ingrained in my mind while I'm here all night long _working_ on it!" He glared over at the other man who now had his arms crossed over his chest, striking a pose that was eerily similar to Captain Astro himself, at least minus the dark, flowing cape. Thinking fleetingly of how the other man would look in a pair of skin-tight briefs hugging his lean body, Justin shook his head, trying to concentrate. _Damn the man._ "So if you'll just give me the picture of _Mikey the Magnificent_ there, maybe I can get back to work!" His eyes flashed in annoyance – annoyance at this man taking up his valuable, precious time, but also annoyance at the man's ability to be so damn distracting with his intensity. The hazel eyes were virtually boring right through him as he noticed the man smiling at him smugly in a _gotcha_ kind of sneer.

When the other man made no move to respond to his demand, he rose quickly from his chair, pushing it back roughly to stride more confidently than he felt toward the older man. Snatching the photo from his hand, he thought he saw a glimmer of surprise as well as maybe a little respect in the brown eyes before the indifferent façade returned. "Now if you'll excuse me – I have _work_ to do!" He announced, his blue eyes now alive with passion and determination. He abruptly turned and walked quickly back to his desk, plopping his slender body down and deliberately avoiding returning the other man's gaze, even though he could practically feel his eyes boring into him.

Brian stood there, silently amused by the other man's antics. There was something about this blond dynamo's drive and fiery resolve that intrigued him. He stood there for several seconds observing the other man, who was apparently making a concerted attempt to totally ignore him. That was certainly a new approach; Brian wasn't used to being taken for granted. Normally when he gave another man his attention – and it was a _fucking_ privilege if he did – they were practically swooning at his feet. This one, however, was _different_. "Don't you have a birthday party to go to?" he suddenly heard. Caught rather sheepishly in his reverie, Brian looked over to see the other man's blue, piercing eyes staring at him, eyebrows raised in irritation.

_Oh, yeah….Sonny Boy_. The reason for his predicament in the _first _place.

"Uh…..yeah," he answered rather dumbly. Smacking himself inside for sounding so illiterate, he turned to go. "I'll be back tomorrow," he verified, trying to sound indifferent just before he turned to exit the back room, the other man continuing to glare at him over the intrusion. "And one more thing……," he added, as Justin looked up in resignation, tired of the interruption to his work. "Fix Captain Astro's fucking head for God's sake – he needs an oval, _narrow_ head, not one like a damn bowling ball."

He uttered one more word just before he disappeared. "Later," he called and smirked arrogantly as he finally disappeared from Justin's sight.

Justin huffed. _You just have to get the last word in, don't you? Well, two can play that game. _He called out to Brian in a taunting voice, "Don't forget to take Gus' dinosaur. I'd hate to let a good battle go to waste." Chuckling to himself, he turned his attention back to Captain Astro and his wondrous sidekick, Mikey. _Mikey – who names his friend THAT?_ He pondered how such a man who seemed so streetwise and cosmopolitan could wind up calling his best friend such a cutesy nickname. Perhaps there is more to this man than he appears, he thought. He filed that little piece of information in the back of his head along with the other snapshots of the man as he worked diligently on correcting the superhero's "bowling ball" head.

_

* * *

__Mel and Lindsey's House – Evening_

Their house lit up brighter than a Christmas tree, Brian pulled up somewhat reluctantly in front of Mel and Lindsey's. He was surprised he could even find a parking space anywhere near their front door, since both sides of the street were lined up and down with cars, no doubt belonging to fellow lesbian mothers and their rodent kids. Grimacing and steeling himself for the circus no doubt occurring inside, he reluctantly pulled himself out of the car, the infamous Dimetrodon securely nestled inside a dark blue gift bag with gold tissue paper. After several attempts at actually wrapping the damn thing, he grew tired of the numerous wads of paper thrown throughout the loft and he had finally come up with the ingenious decision to simply stuff it inside some tissue paper and tuck it in a recycled gift bag that someone had used to gift him with for a previous Boss' Day present.

As he strode up the sidewalk, he didn't have long to wait to see his son; a dark-haired blur of little-boy energy burst out of the front door and scrambled over to see his father. "Daddy!" he squealed. "It's my _birthday_!" he told his father proudly. Brian smiled broadly – a genuine smile he normally only reserved for his son – as he swept him up into his arms and hugged him firmly.

He felt little, somewhat chubby arms wrap themselves around his neck as he became the recipient of a sweet, sticky kiss; looking up at Lindsey, he cracked, "I see _someone_ has already found his cake – or should I say it found _him_."

Lindsey smiled as she stood in the open doorway, observing the tender scene. "What gave it away? The sticky kiss or the green icing smeared all over his face?" As Gus squirmed in Brian's arms and issued a two-word request, "Down, Daddy," Brian quickly but gently released the boy to the ground. "Come on, Daddy," he entreated, taking Brian's hand and pulling him toward the door. "I want to show you my dinosaur cake!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Jus'n made it for me - come see!" he ordered his father, tugged insistently on his arm.

Brian rolled his eyes good-naturedly and couldn't help grinning as he allowed his son to pull him toward the door, the gift bag swinging back and forth in his free hand. He was surprised in a way that his son seemed more excited at the moment about showing him his cake rather than opening up another present. In a way, though, he shouldn't have been surprised; the cake _was_ pretty damn incredibly realistic-looking. He was curious to see if it _tasted_ as good as it looked. In fact, that thought got him thinking about whether the cake's incredible-looking _artist_ might also taste as good as he looked. He decided that remained to be seen; perhaps he would have a chance soon to find out. There were few men, perhaps _no_ men, who could resist the Kinney charm eventually; some just took a little longer to wear down. He always enjoyed a challenge and he could be a patient but persistent man when he needed to be. The important thing, though, was that he not come across as the pursuer, because Brian Kinney always had to appear to be the catch, _not_ the hunter.

As he noticed several screaming children running around the living room – apparently on an extreme sugar buzz of cake and ice cream - thoughts about the blond spitfire he had bantered with earlier in the day were temporarily pushed to the background as his son finally let go of his hand and raced up to the partially-cut cake. Snatching a dinosaur-themed paper plate with a piece containing the Dimetrodon's scaly tail off the table, he held it out to his daddy proudly, his big brown eyes alive with excitement. "Here, Daddy," he advised his father solemnly. "I kept the tail just for _you_."

Brian grinned. "Why, _thank you_, Sonny Boy," he lavished gratitude on his son, who beamed back at him as his father took the proffered high-carb dessert from his outstretched hands. "I feel very special to get the tail part." He realized he still had his son's gift bag clutched in his free hand. "Aren't you going to open up your present from me?" he asked the little boy, teasingly holding up the gift bag just above his son's reach.

"Yeah!" Gus screamed excitedly, now jumping up and down with glee, trying unsuccessfully to snatch the gift bag away from his father. "Let me _see_, Daddy! Mommy!" he shouted to Lindsey, who had followed them into the living room, as she tried hard to dodge the children running around her in circles. "Daddy won't give me my _present!_" he told her, starting to sulk a little as the bottom lip turned under while he continued to leap up and down in a futile attempt to snag his present. "Make him _stop_, Mommy!" he told her, now placing his little-boy hands on his hips in a perfect imitation of his father. "He's being _bad!"_

Brian curled his lips under in amusement as he looked over at Lindsey with an innocent look. "Brian," she admonished him, "Don't be less mature than your son – give him his present, for God's sake!" She shook her head in disbelief as she twisted her mouth; no wonder these two got along so well together – they were about the same age _mentally_.

Brian finally smiled at his son and slowly, teasingly, lowered the bag incrementally until it was finally within his son's reach. Gus promptly snatched the bag away from his father, sing-songing smugly, "I got my present, I got my present," as he ran around his father, the paper gift bag swinging back and forth from his hand like a pendulum. He ran over to the couch nearby and furiously plucked the tissue paper from the bag.

Brian heard a high-pitched squeal of delight from his son as he jumped up and down; the ecstatic look on Gus' face made the hard-fought prize worth every barb and jab he had had to endure from Gus' cake artist as his son actually glowed with wonder and excitement at the prize tucked inside the tissue paper.

"Daddy! Do you know what this _is?_" he asked his father excitedly, continuing to jump up and down as he ran toward the brunet. "It's my _Dimetrodon!" _he told him, holding it out proudly in his plump little hand for his father to see.

"Why, it _is_, Sonny Boy," Brian agreed, feeling honored when Gus let him hold it briefly before he returned it to his son. He knew the treasured toy was just a very brief loaner and the boy would be devastated if he didn't return it immediately. Sure enough, as soon as Brian gave the dinosaur model back to his son, he quickly turned around and rushed over to a group of his friends to proudly show them his newest, most cherished possession.

As Brian stood there, relieved that his gift had been received so exuberantly, Mel walked up him, observing his piece of cake still standing somewhat neglected in his hand. Brian actually had no intention of eating it, save a small bite to ascertain whether it was tasty or not.

"I should have guessed you would wind up eating part of the _ass_," she muttered, smirking. "So how is _this_ one?"

Brian gave her a barely-tolerant, pained look as he finally speared a small bite of the cake with his fork and took a small taste. Damn – he had to admit. It really _was_ good. The vanilla cake was extremely moist and the icing was creamy but not too overly-sweet like most frostings were. "Not quite as good as the ass I ate last night," he cracked, "but not bad……"

"Please," Mel muttered, thinking, _too much information_. "Don't elaborate. I'd like to keep my ice cream and cake _down_, thank you very much." Shaking her head in disgust at his coarseness, she walked away to mingle with some of their more _cultured _company.

"Brian," Lindsey chided him as she walked up to him, having overheard his and Mel's conversation. "Do you have to be _crude_?" She, too, shook her head incredulously.

Brian gave her a _what – me?_ look of innocence. "She _asked _me," he answered. "I just gave her an honest opinion, that's all. If she didn't want to know, she shouldn't have fucking _asked me_," he maintained.

Lindsey winced; normally she would have been concerned about his language in front of the children, but currently there were so many of them running around furiously and screaming with excitement, there was no possibility they would be overhead, anyway.

"I'm surprised Gus remembered the _Doughboy's _name," Brian told her, finding himself just a little jealous over his son's apparent fondness for the cake designer. "After all, he's only met him – what? Once? Twice? He seems pretty taken with him for someone he's only seen a short time." Gus usually had such a short attention span – so typical of boys his age – that Brian was amazed that Justin had made such an impression on him.

"Well, Justin spent quite a bit of time with him when he met him at Brady's birthday party," she told him, referring to one of Gus' friends who had recently had a party that Justin had also designed a cake for. "He's actually very patient with children – and he was so gracious to them at the party. After he helped bring the cake in, he spent almost an hour just volunteering to paint all these fantastic designs on several of the children's faces. He was _incredible _– he could pretty much draw anything they asked for. He was a big hit – probably bigger than the clown that Margie had found for the entertainment," she said, referring to one of the little boy's mothers. "Gus, of course, wanted a Dimetrodon on his cheek, which Justin graciously complied with. That's when I actually came up with the idea to have Justin design the dinosaur cake for Gus' birthday, but, of course, I didn't tell _Gus_ that. He was SO excited when he saw the cake, Brian! You should have _SEEN_ him! I've never seen anyone so mesmerized by a cake in my _life!_ I had to take a picture of him and the cake together before he would even cut a piece of it. It was _so_ cute! You should have seen him," she said, smiling fondly at her son who was proudly displaying his new toy dinosaur to all the other children as he growled and pretended to have the Dimetrodon walk down the coffee table.

Brian gazed affectionately at his son; despite all the trouble he had finding the toy replica, it had definitely been worth it. His son was absolutely in heaven as he grasped the gift in his hand firmly. He was very accommodating when it came to showing it off, but he wasn't about to let it out of his sight, or his grasp. The gift was obviously a huge hit, to Brian's relief.

"Well, he certainly seems pleased with the toy version," Brian observed as Lindsey nodded her agreement. As Gus joined the others in running around the room, the Dimetrodon protectively in his hand, Brian turned to Lindsey. "Well, now that I've made the obligatory appearance and eaten a bite of the cake, I'll be going," he decided as he was rudely shoved inadvertently by a blond partygoer who rushed by squealing as he played tag with another boy. He glared at the escaping pair as held his hands up in surrender, trying earnestly to prevent one of them from getting cake goo or runny ice cream on his Armani suit. _Get me OUT of here._

Lindsey chuckled. "I _thought_ you liked blonds," she teased him as she noticed his reaction. She was still betting that he was secretly attracted to one blond in particular; she had a feeling they would soon find out. "So….." she began casually, keeping her voice even. "You're still going to help Justin out with Mikey's cake tomorrow night?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "You would think from what I'm paying the little _artiste_ that he could fucking do it on his _own_," he snarled. "But, _yes, _I'm going over tomorrow night to his shop to help him. I guess his _widdle biddy_ hands are too small to reach the top of the cake," he told her in falsetto. "I have no idea why his beanstalk of a partner can't do it – _he_ should be the one helping him, NOT the one who's _paying_ DOUBLE for it."

Lindsey smirked; _I think someone's protesting just a little TOO much here_. We'll see who gets the better of whom tomorrow night, she thought. Silently thanking Emmett for playing along with her little matchmaking scheme, she pretended to commiserate with her friend. "Poor thing," she cooed sympathetically. "Having to resort to _physical labor_ to make sure Michael has a spectacular grand opening party. You're such a _good_ friend to him," she told him graciously. "Risking having calloused hands and all." She giggled as she noticed Brian frowning at the thought of his hands being damaged by _blue-collar _manual labor.

"Well, is sure isn't the normal _physical labor _I usually enjoy," he quipped. "I'm just helping to put it _together_," he reminded her pointedly. "I already made it _abundantly_ clear that I do NOT touch sticky frosting, flour, or _anything_ that will stain my clothes – or tarnish my reputation," he smirked.

Gazing over the room to spot his son, he cried out, "Sonny Boy!" to his son, who was still running around the room in a frenzy, the much-valued toy dinosaur still clutched tightly in his hand. "I have to go, Gus!" he told the little boy, who actually stopped for a few seconds to run over and hug his father's legs. Reaching down to give his son a kiss on the cheek, he said, "Happy Birthday, Buddy. I'll see you this weekend." Although most people who knew Brian would assume he only saw his son periodically, he actually made it a point to see him for at least a few hours each weekend; both father and son enjoyed their regular play times together.

Gus returned the kiss and shouted, "Bye, Daddy! Give Jus'n a kiss for me!" before he ran back to his friends, squealing once again and vehemently protesting as someone tried to take his most treasured possession away. Brian merely looked at him in stunned surprise. Why would his son even _think _such a thing?

Lindsey giggled at her son's statement; _if he only knew how close he came to the mark on THAT one_. "Don't mind Gus," she told him, trying to explain his statement away. "I told him that Justin was helping to make a cake for you for Michael's party. He's at the stage where he thinks everyone should kiss each other when they say hello or goodbye. He's very tactile – I think he gets it from _you_," she teased him, as Brian gave her a look of disdain. "You realize, by the way, that he will insist on _sleeping_ with that thing tonight," she told him, referring to the Dimetrodon.

Brian smiled in a self-satisfied way. He knew it would be the perfect gift for his son. And in a weird, roundabout way, he actually had a certain cake designer to thank for it. Somehow he had the impression, too, that tomorrow wasn't going to be the end of their _encounters_. Which, he decided, might just not be such a bad thing.

Bidding his friend goodnight with a "catch you later," he strode out the car, certain thoughts of a fiery, blond rebel innermost in his mind.


	4. Chapter 4: Are We Having A Ball Yet?

_Sugar Plum Cake Design & Party Planner Shop – Tuesday Morning_

"Justin? Baby, wake up! You're going to be late for school, sweetie!"

Justin hazily heard his name being called and his shoulder being gently shook. "Huh?" he called out fuzzily as he desperately tried to clear his befuddled, sleep-deprived mind. Since he had fallen asleep earlier, he had been having the strangest dreams. The Captain Astro cake he had been working on for hours upon hours had abruptly come alive. He dreamed that he was being held hostage by the Cookie Monster and Captain Astro had to come and rescue him from its clutches, with help from his trusty sidekick, Mikey, of course. In the end, they had triumphed over the cookie monster by feeding him giant chocolate chip cookies. Apparently, they had proven to be tastier in the end than Justin had been. "Mom?"

"Hardly, Baby," came the decidedly male reply; Justin slowly picked his head up from the desk where he had fallen asleep late last night; or was it early this morning?

He slowly became aware of where he was and what he had been doing. "Em……What _time_ is it?" he asked his friend warily, who seemed awfully perky for this time of day. Just what time of day _was_ it?

"Uh, well, let's see……the little hand's on the 8 and the big hand's on the 6. If I remember my kindergarten numbers correctly, then, I would say it's 8:30." Em waited for his friend's delayed reaction; it was obvious that Justin had been here in their shop all night, working non-stop on the rush-order cake.

Justin cursed as he looked at the clock overhead. "8:30 in the _MORNING_? Shit! I have to be at school in 30 minutes! _Damn it_!" He quickly pushed back his chair and looked around frantically for his portfolio bag and backpack. "Shit!" he repeated. Damn that Kinney. If he hadn't come waltzing in yesterday dangling that outrageous, irresistible offer in front of his nose, he wouldn't be rushing around crazy right now trying to get to school on time. At least if he got his ass kicked out of school, he wouldn't have to _worry_ about finishing the cake. He fleetingly was tempted to go that route just to spite the man when he thought better of it; despite his talent at being a top-notch cake designer and his enjoyment at doing it, his real passion was painting. And the only way he was going to become a successful artist was if he finished his classes.

At last spying his coloring pencils and charcoals, he quickly scooped them up into his backpack. Before he rushed out of the back room, he asked his friend, "Em – will you do me a favor and put the cake parts in the fridge? I'll come by after school to work on them some more."

Emmett smiled; it always seemed like Justin was a whirlwind, whether he was bouncing from their shop to go to school or running to the deli where he worked on an as-needed basis. "Sure, Baby," he assured him. "Go on - I'll take care of it." Justin flashed him a grateful smile before he hurried out of the backroom for school.

Now that his friend was gone, Emmett had a better chance to take a look at what Justin had accomplished so far. He was constantly amazed by what his friend managed to come up with when he designed his cakes. He had never realized what you could do with all the tools involved with the design part; Justin had actually taken some cake decorating classes at the local vocational college and had been heaped with praise for his creativity and talent for thinking outside the box. Of course, Emmett wasn't really surprised; he already knew how extremely gifted an artist Justin was, so it didn't seem difficult to put that to work in his cake design. But as he watched Justin literally start from scratch to make a cake and then place the fondant on it to begin turning it into a work of art, he was absolutely mesmerized and just a little envious by what his friend was constantly coming up with. The man could take a vague idea or interest someone had and turn it into a brilliant, edible masterpiece.

He considered himself very fortunate to be in business with such a talented partner; no doubt Justin's gift for producing such unbelievable pieces that just happened also to be cakes was a large part of their recent success. Of course, some of their luck could have come from his Aunt Lula's recipes, too; Em could wield a mean tray of appetizers and canapés when he had to.

He glanced over at his friend's current assignment – the Captain Astro cake. Or at least it was _supposed _to be a Captain Astro cake. Right now, it was in three oddly-shaped pieces. Most of Justin's cakes were three tiers and the base pieces normally consisted of three round cake parts of different dimensions. This one, however, was _not_ round. It was mainly square. Emmett stared down at Justin's work in progress. He had all the confidence in the world in his friend; but how he was going to take the present configuration and turn it into a spectacular, edible work of art was a huge mystery to him. "Baby, I believe in you," Emmett muttered somewhat skeptically. "But I can't wait to see how _this_ one turns out." Shrugging his shoulders, he nonetheless began to place the fondant-topped parts into the large, commercial-size refrigerator so they could await Justin's magic touch later.

_Tuesday Mid-Afternoon_

Justin rushed back into the shop the same way he had hurried out; he had managed to get to class just barely on time and had somehow been able to stay awake during his classes, mainly by guzzling Cokes the entire day. Now the caffeine buzz had set in and he was raring to get back to work on his latest creation.

The bell jingled its familiar signal over the door as he opened it and scurried in; Em was hard at work behind the front counter placing his newest party planning treats in the glass case they used to display his tempting offerings in hopes the next person who walked in would become their next new client. (Em had insisted on calling them _clients_ – he thought it made them sound more important than just being called _customers)._ Justin conceded he may have been right - they acquired quite a bit of business just from the street traffic that happened to walk by and were attracted by their products displayed in the front windows, mainly due in large part to Justin's artistic showcasing. But once they got into the shop, it was Emmett's responsibility to lure them back toward the display cases that contained not only Emmett's appetizers and other treats, but miniature versions of Justin's more successful cakes as well.

"Hey, Baby!" Emmett greeted him with a smile. "How was class?" He scrutinized his friend. "You look a little more awake then the _last_ time I saw you," he added teasingly.

"Yeah, it's amazing what 7 or 8 Cokes will do for you," Justin answered, smiling.

"You mean make you want to piss twenty-four hours a day?"

Justin laughed. "Yeah, something like that. That and keep your eyes open for the important stuff." He hurried over to a nearby apron he had somewhat vicariously thrown down last night on a chair and put in on; being an artist, Justin couldn't be satisfied with just a plain, simple white apron. He had to find a more creative style. The apron, which covered part of his chest and tied around his waist, was mainly white but had a navy-blue border; in the middle, right across his chest, were inscribed the words _I'm Having a Ball. What About You?_

Em shook his head amused. "I don't know, Sweetie – maybe _YOU_ should have gone into advertising, not that arrogant, albeit well-to-do and drop-dead gorgeous Mr. Kinney." Emmett had quickly picked up on Lindsey's silent hint to _conveniently_ find himself too busy to help out his friend tonight, even though truth be told, he really had most of his upcoming party for the art crowd already finished. He just hoped Lindsey knew what she was doing setting up these two seemingly total opposites in the same room _together_ and without a chaperone. He really _liked_ Justin; he hoped they didn't manage to KILL each other tonight. Besides, he was also really fond of the _money_ their business was presently bringing in; after all, a well-heeled queen such as himself needed to make sure he was properly dressed for the part. Having double the amount of Justin's usual design fee wouldn't hurt to fill their coffers back up. Of course, it wouldn't really help much in the future if Justin was killed by an extremely annoyed client in the meantime.

At the mention of his soon-to-be, reluctant but well-dressed assistant, Justin grimaced. "Yeah, well, I guess he _is_ sort of attractive in a conceited, pompous _don't I know it_ sort of way," the blond conceded. He looked over at Emmett as he heard a disbelieving snort come from his friend's lips. Justin twisted his face at him. "Okay, okay, so he _is_ hot," he admitted. "But why does he have to be so damn _smug_ about it?"

Emmett smiled sympathetically. "Well, I guess that's a good quality when you're in advertising – I imagine being sure of yourself has its advantages. That should actually work to _our_ advantage when he creates the ad campaign for us. I can't _wait_ to see what he comes up with," he said gleefully, clapping his hands in anticipation as his mind conjured up all kinds of extra, _lucrative_ business.

"Yeah…..it should be interesting," Justin agreed. "But can you refrain from using the words _come_ and _up_ in the same sentence, though, when you're talking about _him_?"

Emmett laughed knowingly. "Whatever you say, baby." Glancing quickly up at the clock, he advised his friend hastily as he grabbed his nearby jacket, "Ooh, speaking of our little helper by the way, I'm afraid you'll have to make him behave on your own. I'm late for a meeting at the gallery with the event coordinator. I'm not sure how long it will take, but knowing the old windbag, I wouldn't look for me back anytime soon. You'll be okay here on your own?" he asked him curiously. He felt a little bad that the lie he just told fell so easily from his lips, but Lindsey knew Kinney a lot better than he did, and her instincts were telling her these two seemingly mismatched boys were more alike than they realized, and he actually felt sorry for his friend. Between work, school, and the shop, Justin hardly had time for any type of social life. And that was a real waste of an adorable body and a kind, passionate soul. _I just hope you're right though, Lindsay – I need my partner to stay in ONE piece._

"Yeah, sure…..What can he _do?" _Justin answered him, trying to sound more confident than he felt. There was just something about that man that unnerved him, and not in a totally unpleasant way. He wasn't about to let _Kinney_ know that, though……OR his friend. "He's going to be on _my_ turf tonight, and I expect him to do what I ask. If he doesn't, I'll just threaten to throw some butter crème on his Armani suit," he smirked jokingly.

"Well, good luck, Sweetie," Emmett told him, winking, just before he opened the door to leave. "I think you'll going to _need _it," he added, turning his back so he couldn't see Justin's reaction.

_Yeah…..I have a feeling you're right about THAT one_, Justin thought with some trepidation, just before he hurried to the back room and reached inside the refrigerator to take the cake segments out for the superhero cake. He looked somewhat fretfully at what he had accomplished so far; he had finally completed the drawing of what the cake would eventually look like and was pleased with the results but he still had a _lot_ of work to do. When he gets done, if everything goes as planned, the cake would not only be a feast for the taste buds but a feast for the eyes as well. For this was definitely NOT going to be simply an ordinary, run-of-the-mill, incredible-tasking chocolate-marbled cake. This was going to be a work of art. Justin had designed a three-tiered, rectangular-shaped cake shrouded in fondant of subdued, darker colors reflective of downtown Pittsburgh at night. The overall cake would be a night scene of Pittsburgh, complete with different buildings of various heights and shapes. The skyscrapers would be replete with windows, rooftop pools and vegetation, and he would even have lights set around the bottom of the base. The fondant he was using was a special type that would actually glow under black lighting to enhance the effect, and he would show Captain Astro on top flying around the city below. He still had to fix the mechanism to hold Captain Astro onto the top of the cake while he flew, but he was confident he could work it out successfully. If the cake turned out as he planned, he was confident it would not only be an award-winner; it would be the first cake he had designed with motion as one of its elements. He was excited to see the end result, and he had no doubt it would even knock the proverbial Gucci socks off Kinney as well.

_Kinney_….aka the _Dimetrodon Demon_, he thought, smirking. Just what did Justin think about this enigma of a man? He was obviously very successful as evidenced by his well-heeled style, and he knew his company, Kinnetik, was a multi-million dollar corporation, no doubt due to the man's confident, no-holds-barred business acumen. But he was also a man who had become totally worked-up and agitated over the fact that he couldn't find a fucking toy dinosaur for his son, Gus. Perhaps there was more depth to this man than he allowed most others to see. He resolved to somehow find out.

_Sugar Plum Cake Design and Party Planning Shop – Early Evening_

Justin found himself growing unexpectedly nervous the closer it got to 7:00. He managed to finish up the spun sugar streetlights but found his mind invariably occupied by the impending arrival of his well-dressed "helper." It was one thing to interact with Brian Kinney around the relative safety of Lindsey and Emmett; he had a suspicion, however, that it would be an entirely different experience to be alone with the man. Over the past few years, Justin had certainly been hit on by all kinds of men; and while he normally gravitated toward those who were kind, caring, and had a good sense of humor, this man was an entirely different sort: arrogant, sexy as hell, and downright cocky. Brian Kinney viewed himself as a prize catch and he made no bones about it. So why did he find this conceited man _attractive_? He shook his head in annoyance – what was _wrong_ with him? This man had made it apparent he found Justin as irritating as Justin found _him_. He sighed. Maybe it was just best that they tried to get along for the sake of completing his cake and then he would never have to see the man who thought he was God's gift to fagdom ever _again_; it was obvious that he and Brian Kinney did not travel in the same social circle anyway. _It was no wonder……he was right – his shoes are from Gucci, mine ARE from K-Mart._ Well, despite his relatively modest circumstances, he still had his pride. And he was not going to let this man fluster him. At least he wasn't going to _show_ it, anyway.

The jingle of the bell over the shop's front door startled Justin immediately from his resolve. _Good one, Taylor….Okay, get your game face on_. He took a deep breath to still his quickly-beating pulse and tried frantically to calm his heartbeat just before he looked up to see Mr. Arrogance arriving right on time. Justin couldn't help noticing that the man had apparently gone home to change after work. Either that, or he _normally_ went to work wearing tight blue jeans that showcased his, um….._best_ _feature_, and a snug, long-sleeved black tee shirt that accentuated every toned muscle of his long, lean body. Shaking his head a little to unsuccessfully wipe those thoughts out of his mind, he quickly pasted on what he hoped was a nonchalant look before the other man noticed his not-so-subtle study of his body.

Too late. Justin noticed to his mortification that the other man immediately gave him a smirk that clearly broadcast a message of _Gotcha!_ which caused his face to involuntarily flush. _Damn the man_.

Brian leaned against the door frame and smiled confidently. "Hey, there, Doughboy," he drawled out. "Something wrong? Been standing around the oven too long?" He curled his lips under in amusement as he noticed the blond's face reddening even more.

Justin, however, was determined NOT to take the bait; he figured he would just be one more notch on Brian Kinney's cock ring if he DID. He may not have the fancy clothes that Kinney had, but he _did_ have his pride, damn it. "I'm fine," he insisted curtly. "Now are you going to help me or are you going to just stand there cracking sarcasms?" He raised his eyebrows in defiance as he sat there stiffly in his chair.

Brian continued to smile smugly at the blond, but he finally slowly approached him to stand a few feet away; it was still _too_ close for Justin, however – he could feel his pulse beginning to race again. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and managed to say in a surprisingly commanding tone of voice, "That's better. You can start by helping me lift this larger piece onto the cake board over there." He pointed over to a hard, wooden base that was covered with a midnight-blue piece of fondant to cover its actual composition. He decided yesterday that he would definitely need the wooden cake board rather than one of his plastic ones; together, he estimated the three tiers of the cake would wind up weighing well over 200 pounds, definitely necessitating the strongest of his support boards.

As Brian observed the other man's confident, self-assured stance, Brian's respect for this slender but fiery blond rose another notch as he noticed the man wasn't shrinking from the brunet's authoritarian attitude; rather, he seemed to _challenge_ it.

He noticed that Justin, however, was remaining seated. "Well?" he asked him, one eyebrow raised in a mock-Vulcan inquiry.

Justin shook his head in puzzlement. "Well, _what?"_

Brian sneered. "You _did_ say help, as in the two of us, didn't you? Or do you expect me to lift that icing-covered brick you call a cake tier by myself?" He stood there, hands on hips, as he stared expectantly at the other man.

"No, _Mr. Kinney_. I thought I would just let you pick it up and drop several hours' of work on the floor." Justin huffed in disgust as he pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. To his surprise and his own satisfaction, he noticed the brunet's eyes make a quick sweep down his body, seemingly making a concerted stop at the writing on his apron. He noticed a distinct look of lust on the older man's face before his smug mask quickly replaced it; not quite fast enough, however, for him to become aware the blond had noticed his look as well. _Gotcha!_

Brian eyes uncomfortably looked away; anywhere but into the knowing blue eyes of a certain blond cake designer. He wasn't accustomed to his private thoughts being broadcast so easily; was he losing his touch? He never had slipped like that before; well, he was bound to not let it happen again, either, especially with a young, albeit delicious-looking little _twink_.

He made a show now of looking at his Rolex. "I'm not paying you by the hour, am I?" he asked sarcastically.

"Huh?" Justin answered intelligently. "Oh….." he said, realizing what the other man was trying to say. "No, _Mr. Kinney_," he answered shortly, becoming irritated with the other man's attitude, "You're not paying me by the hour – if you were, you couldn't _afford_ me." He shook his head in disgust. "Just help me put the bottom tier on top of the board, okay?"

"Yes, _sir_, Chef," Brian responded snappily, saluting the other man mockingly, one lean hand coming up quickly to his forehead. He followed Justin over to the largest of the three rectangles that he had removed from the refrigerator earlier. It was fairly easy to take the separate parts out of the fridge; placing them on top of each other just right and then moving them over to the work area was an entirely different matter, however. He wished, not for the first time, that Emmett was here helping him rather than _Mr_. _Betty Crocker_. But he had to get the cake ready and this man was the only option.

"Okay," Justin began. "You need to grab the _bottom_ of the cake with both hands. But one hand needs to be in the _center_ of the bottom for support. You understand?"

"Completely, Sir Chef," he replied confidently, as Justin rolled his eyes at him. "Trust me – I know all about _supporting bottoms_."

Justin snorted. "I'm sure you _do_," he assured him sarcastically as Brian merely chuckled softly at the other man's reaction.

"Okay, then, on three we'll both pick up a corner. One…..two….three!" Justin quickly reached under the heavy surface to wrap his fingers around the side as his other hand reached under to support the center of the block; as he raised it up a few inches, he peered over to make sure his "assistant" was doing the same. He noticed to his relief that Brian seemed to be holding his side up properly enough; he had one hand propping up the side slightly as the other hand lay flat underneath the center bottom of the cake.

Nodding in satisfaction, Justin instructed the brunet, "Now we need to carry it over to that board over there," he indicated with a nod of his blond head. "_Carefully_," he admonished the other man, who had picked up his side and was starting to walk a little too fast in Justin's opinion. "Slower!" he chided Brian, trying to get the longer-legged, taller man to slow his pace. One wrong move and hours of work would go down the drain.

"This thing is _fucking _heavy!" Brian groused, as his arms began to ache a little from his burden. "What did you make this out – _cement_?"

Justin muttered under his breath, "I'd like to make some of your _shoes_ out of cement," as the man continued to ignore his concerns about his pace; was this man trying to run a fucking race or something?

"Brian, I said to _slow the fuck DOWN!"_ he repeated, now becoming a little alarmed as the cumbersome cake tier began to tilt precariously at an angle.

"Look!" Brian growled. "I'm not your little baking _pussy boy!_" The words, however, were no sooner out of his mouth before his foot tripped on the leg of a nearby chair stool and he reached out automatically with one hand to catch himself before he fell; unfortunately, the edible rectangular did not accomplish the same feat.

"Shit!" Brian heard the blond yell as the cake tier went crashing to the floor and broke into several pieces. "Didn't I _TELL YOU?"_ he shouted at Brian. "Didn't I fucking _tell you_ to SLOW DOWN?" Justin began to pace back and forth in a small circle as the slender hands gyrated wildly. "But, _no_…….you had to keep walking as if you were part of the Indy 500! No one tells the great _Brian Kinney_ what to do! You walk as fast as you want, you buy whatever you want, you DO whatever you want, you do _whoever_ you want….." The tirade continued as Justin, totally flustered and frustrated over several hours of work destroyed in a heartbeat, muttered under his breath in between undecipherable swear words.

Brian stood there, transfixed by the blond's animated outburst. He didn't know whether to laugh or apologize; he was too busy watching the passionate, fiery dynamo continue to vent his frustration and expend his energy as he continued to pace in vexation over their situation. Brian just didn't understand what all the hullabaloo was about.

"It's just a square _cake,"_ he countered intelligently. "What's so hard about making _another one_?" It seemed like a simple enough question to him. After all, Lindsey made cakes for Gus from time to time and all she had to do was throw a couple of eggs and some oil in with the cake mix and, shazam! A cake seemed to magically appear 40 minutes later. How hard could it be to replace _this _one, then?

Justin shook his head in disbelief; how dense was _this_ man? "Just a cake," he repeated slowly, hardly believing the words that had come out of the brunet's mouth. "Just a cake," he said again, the voice slowly increasing in volume. "Just a cake? I can't fucking _believe_ you, _Mr. Kinney!"_ he retorted. "Do you have any _concept_ how LONG it took me to mix up that cake and place the fondant over it?"

"Fondant?" Brian asked, confused. "What the fuck is _fondant?" _

Justin shook his head angrily and placed his hands on either side of his forehead in extreme frustration. "Arrgh!" he seemed to scream; at least it _sounded _like that to Brian. In any case, he didn't need to be an expert linguist to notice the blond's face was red again, but this time NOT from embarrassment. This was downright ANGER. At him. "For your information, _Mr. Kinney,"_ was the icy reply. "_Fondant_ is the icing that was covering the cake layer. Icing that has to be made especially for each particular cake, a cake that, I might add, took me _four fucking HOURS _to mix up and bake!" He smacked his head now on his forehead as he envisioned another long night of no sleep. Was this _worth it?_

How in the fuck could one layer of cake take _four hours_ to make? Brian wondered. "Couldn't you just run to the bakery down the street and pick up a sheet cake?" he suggested helpfully. It seemed like a perfectly logical solution to their dilemma; after all, both were rectangular-shaped, right?

Justin looked at him like he had grown another head. "Are you out of your _fucking mind?_ You want me to waltz down to the bakery and replace one of my butter cream layer cakes with some Sara Lee imitation pound cake?" Justin decided the man was insane; if he thought he was going to place his name and his reputation on the line by substituting one of his homemade, buttercream cakes with a cake full of artificial butter and trans fats, he was absolutely _crazy_. He let out a huge sigh of exasperation. He should have known this would turn out to be a giant mistake. How could this man turn something so relatively simple into a major _catastrophe? _

"That's it," he declared decisively. "You just go back to, to…….your _advertising_ and leave me and my buttercream cake _ALONE!" _He wipedhis hands on his apron disgustedly and turned toward the refrigerator to start collecting the ingredients needed to remake the largest tier of the superhero cake. He would just have to skip classes tomorrow and enlist Emmett's help to get the cake constructed once he could remake the largest of the three tiers tonight. He sighed in resignation as he opened up the refrigerator door and began to remove eggs, cream, and butter from the interior, slamming the door shut as he placed the ingredients down on the nearby counter. It was going to be _another _long night.

Brian stood there in amusement; such a temper tantrum from such a relatively harmless incident. He just couldn't see the big deal about part of a cake being accidently damaged; in advertising, if something was wrong, you just fixed it and stayed until you got the job done; it was part of the business – problem solved. What was the _big deal?_

Justin noticed the other man's apparent enjoyment over his misfortune. "I'm glad you find this so _funny_," he huffed to the other man, his hands on his hips as he turned and glared over at him. "I'm relieved to see you have such a fine sense of humor. Let's see just how good it _is_." He slowly turned around and picked up a spatula, dipping it into a large tub of icing that he was going to use to anchor the three tiers together; it was a close match in color to the deep midnight blue of the fondant so it would blend in with the rest of the cake.

Brian was caught totally off guard as a large glop of gooey icing was lobbed surprisingly fast directly at his face. Justin's aim was impressively precise as a large splat sounded squarely on Brian's right cheek; he felt a slight sting as it hit but didn't recover sufficiently enough before another, even larger mass of sticky, sugary icing landed in the center of his chest. "Oops! Oh, my God – did I do that?" he asked, in a perfect Steve Erkel imitation. "Now _that's_ funny!" Justin declared, giggling now as he covered his hand with his mouth in a half-hearted attempt to stifle his mirth. Suddenly the whole calamitous accident seemed a _lot_ more enjoyable. In fact, at that moment, he thought Brian looked remarkably like some abstract painting he had seen the other day the local art gallery.

Brian stood there, icing slowly running down his cheek and his $200 Armani shirt like a dark blue volcano erupting in slow motion; it didn't take as long, however, for _Mt. Kinney_ to erupt. Quickly recovering from his initial shock, the man's eyes narrowed in extreme agitation as he slowly advanced toward the other man. "Why, you _little shit_," he said quietly, a little _too_ quietly for Justin's sake. As the man continued to advance toward him, Justin abruptly stopped giggling, his eyes became round as saucers and his eyebrows shot up in partial fear and question. "That was my brand new, $200 Armani shirt, for _your information_," he growled, as he invaded the other man's _personal space_.

Despite his worry over the other man's intentions, Justin nevertheless couldn't remain _too_ concerned over a man who presently had a large, dark blue streak of icing on his cheek and a large splotch right in the center of his chest. "Uh……could I get you to _pose_ for me?" he squeaked. "I could use you for a prototype of the villain on Mikey's cake. _Splotch Man!"_ he declared, again breaking out in a giggle. After all, what could the other man do? He was still armed…..with his icing spatula. And he knew how to _USE _it.

Brian just stood there stunned for a few moments, amazed that this man could stand in front of an enraged Brian Kinney and _laugh_ at him, even make _jokes_ about him. This was certainly new. NO ONE ever made fun of him – there was usually no _reason_ to. But it had never had dark blue icing flung at him before, either. He realized he must look totally ridiculous at the moment, his hair all messed up, icing dripping off his face and a large bull's eye of goo on his (admittedly extremely expensive) shirt. And as he stood there looking at his adversary with his _I'm Having A Ball, How About You? _apron and a spatula smeared with more _ammunition_, he realized that despite his initial anger, it _was_ funny….._damn_ funny. And this blond-haired, blue-eyed hell-cat of a cake designer standing in front was just plain……_adorable_. And sexy as hell. _I wouldn't mind having a ball, either, Mr. Taylor. One of YOURS._

He smirked now as his initial fury subsided to be replaced by another quest. One that Brian Kinney knew well. The excitement of the hunt. _Game on, Mr. Taylor. Only you aren't about to know it_.

Justin noticed the man's expression changing as he resumed his steady advance toward him, and the man's new look was a little more……_dangerous._ He wasn't sure he _liked_ this one better – in fact, it sort of scared the hell out of him. Just what was he _up_ to? Did he not realize he was still _armed_? His fingers curled around the handle of the spatula for reassurance as the man now stood only a few inches away from him. Justin could see flecks of gold in the wide hazel eyes as the man stared at him pointedly. Well, in a case like this, what was a man to _do?_ There was only one thing he _could _do.

He reached over and _slowly_ wiped his slender index finger over the man's slightly-stubbled cheek to scrape up a portion of the icing. Taking his now sticky, icing-laden finger and placing it in his mouth to suck on it, he proclaimed as he licked his lips, "Mmmm – just the right amount of _sugar, with just a LITTLE hint of tartness_." As he leisurely pulled his finger out of his mouth, his saw the obvious signs of lust in the other man's eyes. _Gotcha, part two. _

Brian's eyes narrowed. _Little teasing fucker_. _Two could play THIS game, Mr. Taylor._ He leaned in to within a few inches of the other man's full, pink lips and whispered commandingly, "_I'M_ the client – let ME be the judge of that," before he placed his hand somewhat possessively around the other man's neck and smashed his lips against his. The kiss was far too brief for both men as Brian abruptly released the blond and smirked. "Definitely a _LOT _of tartness in there," he announced sarcastically.

Justin fought for the air to return to his lungs as he murmured somewhat breathlessly, "Wouldn't YOU like to know?" before his put his professional game face back on. "Now if you'll _excuse me_, _Mr. Kinney_, I have several hours' of work ahead of me, thanks to your _acrobatics_." The previous sharp tone to his voice, however, had somehow disappeared and the fury had been replaced now with resignation and just a little amusement.

Brian smiled evilly. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your culinary masterpiece, _Doughboy_," he replied smugly. "Just make sure you have it over at Babylon tomorrow no later than 6:00 – Mikey's supposed to get there right at 7."

Justin glared at the man. "I always deliver my product on time," he informed Brian coolly in a tone that clearly showed the other man he was being dismissed.

Brian curled his lips under, wondering just what _type_ of product the blond could deliver in private. Just before he turned to leave, he whispered huskily, "If you stay for the party, I promise that you really _will _have a ball." He left but not before he noticed the distinctive pink tint to the other man's face. This time , though, he knew undoubtedly it was definitely _not _from anger.


	5. Chapter 5: Surprise!

_Sugar Plum Cake Design and Party Planners – Early Wednesday Afternoon_

Emmett stood back several feet to take in the full effect of Justin's work. His eyes were filled with amazement and wonder. "Wow, Baby!" He clapped his hands in tribute. "This is truly _unbelievable_! You have _outdone_ yourself this time!" Walking over to the beaming blond, who was standing near the cake with a different apron this time that said _I Live a HARD Life_, he gave his business partner a fierce hug of congratulations before releasing him. "I am _SO _impressed! I didn't even know it was _possible_ to do what you've done to this cake!" He muttered an aside to his friend, "Makes me wanna run out and buy a pair of spandex tights….Bravo, Honey!"

"Thanks, Em," Justin said, smiling proudly as he stared back at his latest creation. He had to admit it – it was his best work so far; it was pure inspiration, even if he had to say so himself. Despite the major fiasco last night, thanks to several hours' extra work after Brian had left and Em's help today, he had managed to mix up and bake another base tier for the cake before noon. After Emmett had helped him set dowels into the tiers to support them and stack the three rectangles on top of each other, Justin had finally been ready to begin the creative part of his design – the replica of downtown Pittsburgh at night with Captain Astro and his faithful sidekick, Mikey, peering up at the sky, ready to help him out.

The three tiers were draped in the midnight blue sky of nighttime, and various buildings in all different shapes, sizes, and heights on the top tier represented the downtown skyscrapers. Each building had been meticulously recreated in minute detail, complete with doors and windows; the tallest skyscraper even had a rooftop penthouse furnished with trees, chaise lounges and a swimming pool. Justin had actually constructed billboards on several of the rooftops that lit up and blinked to display everything from liquor to the Big Q in tribute to Brian's friend, Michael, who he was told used to work as an assistant manager there. The replica of Captain Astro's sidekick was posed with his hands on his hips and his legs spread apart, standing on the penthouse with an spandex outfit and a large "M" on his chest, his dark burgundy cap flowing behind him as if it were in a stiff wind. Justin had used the photo that Brian had provided him to duplicate Michael down to each precise detail – his dark hair, the proper build, and even his dark eyes and somewhat nerdy expression.

The bottom tier of the cake was completed with a downtown street scene, including pedestrians, headlight-clad vehicles, and several street-level shops, including a replica of Babylon and the comic and collectible shop Brian's friend Michael was getting ready to open later in the week. He had even used spun sugar globes to create intricate, gaslight street lamps that glowed just like the real ones.

The highlight of Justin's cake, however, had to be Captain Astro himself. The caped gold and black superhero was perched on a thin gossamer wire, flying in a circle around the upper tier's skyscrapers over downtown Pittsburgh, his cape billowing in the wind as he flew. His muscular hands and legs were stretched out straight in the classic flying pose, with his features so realistic it appeared he would be swooping down any moment to rescue the latest damsel in distress (or in this case, perhaps the latest _boy toy_ in distress).

"Look at this," Justin told his friend proudly, as he walked over to the nearby electric switch and turned the overhead light off; normally that would have clothed the back room in almost total darkness; but the cake immediately created a luminescent glow that softly lit up the room with an almost ethereal, fantastical shine.

"Ooh!" Emmett cried out in amazement. "Honey…..This whole design is to _die _for! It's absolutely fantastic!" He was literally bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet; he was knocked almost speechless by Justin's creation, which was normally a hard task to accomplish where the effusive man was concerned. Emmett, though, had never seen a cake quite like _this_ one. And he definitely was beginning to smell something extremely attractive – the smell of _money_. LOTS of it from not only the word of mouth that would no doubt spread throughout the club tonight, but also from Brian Kinney's promise to provide them with an advertising campaign that would surpass all others.

Justin smiled, enormously pleased with the end result. He had actually persuaded his graphic arts professor to accept the drawing of his cake design as his final project for the quarter, so he could accomplish two tasks at once. _Good thing, too_, he thought to himself as he grimaced – _I don't have enough time in a single day as it IS._ He sighed in relief that this project at last was finished; now all he had to do was get the cake over to Babylon in one (unbroken) piece by 6:00 tonight. He should still have adequate time for him and Emmett to pack the cake properly in a cushioned box and transport it over to the club.

As he thought of the club, a question occurred to him. "Em…..do you know where this Babylon Club _is?_" Justin had never been there before – he had been so busy over the past few years going to school and working hard to get their business off the ground, he had had little time for social activities short of an occasional movie with his friend Daphne or a quick visit to one of the sports bars around PIFA's grounds. Of course, that normally meant some straight woman would invariably try to hit on him to his mortification. The few gay men that _did_ try to pick him up were usually not his type – too intellectual and nerdy or too much of a jock, just not physically attractive to him, or just too full of themselves (i.e., too damn cocky and arrogant).

Speaking of which…..he wondered when the _King_ of_ Cocky and Arrogant_ himself would show up; he knew the man would certainly be there at some point – after all, he owned Babylon, he was Justin's client and the occasion was to celebrate his friend's grand opening. As he reflected on the man, he again was struck by the paradox embodied by Brian Kinney – conceited and sexy as hell and damn certain of it, but also concerned about his son getting the perfect birthday gift and his best friend receiving the party to end all parties. Justin shook his head in bafflement – the man was good at making him extremely angry by his condescending attitude, but there was something almost….._vulnerable_ about the man that made him want to get to know him better and find out what made him tick. But was that a _safe_ thing to do? Of that he wasn't so sure.

As he heard Emmett calling his name, he noticed to his chagrin that he had zoned out thinking about Brian Kinney again…..shaking his head as if he could also replace some of the _marbles_ he must have lost while even dwelling about the man, he turned to his friend, who was asking him if the cake was ready to be boxed up for transport. "Yeah, I think so," he told Emmett. "Just give me a few minutes to pack Captain Astro around some bubble wrap so he stays secure on top." He smirked. "We wouldn't want his cape breaking off before his fly-over." _Especially after someone's little theatrics last night – the last thing he needed was ANOTHER cake fiasco_.

Emmett looked over at his friend curiously; he had been downright furtive about his encounter with the oh-so-sexy Brian Kinney last night. Em was hoping the man would dish about what had happened – what the man was like in private, what he was wearing (he knew it had to be something tight and revealing), how his voice sounded when they were alone (was it slow, raspy, drawling, sexy, sarcastic?), what he liked to talk about (although that was probably a no-brainer – duh – sex and fucking, what else?), etc., etc. But Justin had been downright tightlipped to Emmett's exasperation. The only information his partner had divulged about his encounter with him was the part where Brian had dropped the biggest part of the cake; he thought Justin had told him that only because he needed his help this morning to get the cake done on time. For whatever reason, though, Justin politely refused to reveal any other details about last night.

Justin returned from the front of the shop where he had stored the bubble wrap to cushion the moving, fragile parts of the cake. It took several minutes of careful maneuvering and securing before he was confident the cake was safely transportable. "Okay, Em," he told his friend. "I think we're ready to go….give me a hand here, will you?" He gingerly lifted up the corner of the cake base as he waited for his friend to pick up the opposite end. Moving over to a nearby counter, they slowly slid the one-of-a-kind cake into the open side of the large box.

Justin uttered a huge sigh of relief after the cake was safely ensconced inside the box. "Whew! I'm glad that's done….especially after _last night's_ disaster." He wiped the blond hair back from his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and he smiled at his friend. "Thanks for all your help today, Em," he said, looking over gratefully at his friend. "I could never have gotten this done without your help today." Justin grabbed a spool of packing tape nearby and began to tape the box securely shut for its journey over to Babylon for its grand unveiling; at least the trip would only take a few minutes. After everything that had happened and how much work Justin had put into the making of it, the shorter the trip they had to take, the less chance there was that there would be any more disasters that might unfold.

Em smiled at the attention. "Anytime, Baby," he told the younger man. "We're in this together, remember?" He clapped a gentle hand over his partner's shoulder. "Now – we need to go home and don our best-dressed and sluttiest duds for Babylon so we can knock 'em dead." He pinched his lips together with his fingers as he thought out loud to himself. "Hmmm…..Should I wear the gold mesh top with the black spandex in honor of Captain Astro, or maybe the lime green rayon top with the royal blue satin pants?" His eyes flashed with sudden decision. "I think since your cake will be glowing under the black lights, I'm going to stick with the lime green and navy – don't want to blend in too much with the scenery - that should make this queen's bod look just _fabulous_ with the special lighting!" He looked over at Justin, who seemed oblivious to his fashion dilemma as he finished up placing a self-adhesive advertising label on the cake's outer box so anyone who was nearby would know where the cake came from. Both men always looked for whatever ways they could to advertise their shop in hopes of earning more business in the future.

"Honey, what are _you_ going to wear?" Emmett asked his friend pointedly as he looked over at him.

"Huh?" Justin asked, only half-listening as he took one final look at the box to make sure it was totally secure for moving. They had too much invested in the cake's successful arrival to blow it now. He finally looked over at his friend, unsure of what he had asked him.

Emmett repeated helpfully, "I said…..what are you going to wear to _Babylon_?"

Justin snorted a little. "Oh. I hadn't actually given it much thought," he admitted. "I'm hoping the _cake's_ going to be the center of attention at this guy's party, not what I _wear_."

Emmett frowned; how did his absolutely adorable friend get so complacent about what he was wearing to a special occasion? Had he not been anywhere special lately? Had he not learned anything from him about fashion sense? Thinking back over the last several months after they had opened up their shop, he realized with surprise that he probably hadn't. The poor guy had been so busy with school, working part-time at the deli nearby, and using every last available minute to work on his cake designs, he probably _hadn't_ been out anywhere just to enjoy himself in quite a long while. Well, he, Emmett Honeycutt, Fashion Queen of all Gay Pittsburgh, was going to _change _that.

"Is the cake ready to go?" he asked his friend.

"Uh…..yeah, I think so," Justin responded. He glanced over at the clock on top of the entrance door. "But it's too early," he pointed out. He had been working furiously since 5:00 this morning to get the finishing touches done after having to re-bake the largest tier all over again; now that he and Emmett had completed all the work, he noted with surprise that it was only 4:00 – two hours yet until the cake had to be there. They could take it over now, but it was best to keep it under wraps and nestled inside the dry ice container in the box until closer to delivery time. "Even with the fondant icing, it's probably best not to take it over just yet. I think it should stay where it's at so it remains chilled."

"Good idea," Emmett agreed quickly; that would work out just perfectly for what he had in mind. "That actually gives me plenty of time for _you."_

Justin frowned, puzzled. "Me?"

Emmett twisted his face. "Yeah, _YOU._" He eyed his friend intently with an analyzing glare. Even though Justin was presently wearing his ever-present, well-worn sneakers, a faded pair of Chinos, and a flour-dusted well-loved long-sleeved tee shirt under his work apron, he was still beautiful. But put the man in a proper dancing outfit, and _look out, boys_! He'll be having to _fight_ them off. "Uh…..Don't take this the wrong way, Baby, but you're a mess."

Justin raised his eyebrows with a start. "Excuse me?" he answered somewhat defensively. What was wrong with what he was wearing? It was perfectly acceptable attire for a somewhat impoverished college-age man with barely $20 extra dollars to his name.

Emmett smiled apologetically. "I'm just saying that if you're going to appear at Babylon tonight – which I've heard since it was recently remodeled that it's the new premier dance club in all of gay Pittsburgh – you have to _look the part_. Tattered sneakers and well-worn, washed-at-least-2000- times clothes aren't going to cut the fashion mustard."

Justin huffed, a little insulted. "Well, I'm sorry, _Emmett_, but unlike Mr. "_I've got to have it all or nothing_" Kinney I don't have a money tree growing in my backyard." He shrugged. "Actually, I don't have a backyard, either."

Emmett rushed to mollify his friend and explain. "Now hold on there, Baby, don't get all defensive," he soothed the other man. "I know that just like me you're just one of us working stiffs. But I think in your case you've been _stiff_ just a little too long. I just mean that we need to raid the fashion closet and come up with something more presentable."

Justin rolled his eyes in amusement. "I hate to point this out, Em, but I think your clothes might be just a little too long for me." He looked down at his shorter legs for emphasis. "I don't think rolled-up cuffs are going to look any _more_ _presentable_ than what I already have on."

"Well, that's where my little old discount card at _Torso_ is going to come in handy," he told his friend, smiling, as he wrapped an arm around the blond's shoulders. "With the big wad of cash that your cake is about to bring us, along with the giant leap in business that Brian Kinney's fantabulous ad campaign will undoubtedly give us, you'll be able to pay me back in no time." He glanced up at the clock. "By my calculations, I think we have just enough time to accomplish our goal. What do you say? Ready to knock some gay boys' socks off (and maybe something else?)" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

Justin couldn't help laughing at his friend's comical expression; maybe he _did _deserve to splurge just a teensy bit this time. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually spent any amount of money on a new outfit. Maybe Emmett was right. "Okay," he somewhat hesitantly agreed to Emmett's delight. "I'm at your disposal. Just nothing real flashy, okay?" he cautioned him. "Something _tastefully _slutty….…and not too _loud_."

Emmett chuckled. "Honey, that's MY _favorite_ style_….._but I also know what to look for when it comes to YOU – _trust me_." Emmett was going to have every man at Babylon positively drooling when he got done with his friend – including a certain brunet. _I hope you're right about these two, Lindsey,_ he thought once again. Either way, he knew Justin would be a knockout when he got finished with him.

* * *

Justin stood in front of the mirror at Torso, looking at the outfit Emmett had ultimately urged him to buy. As he turned around to look at the back of his reflection, he had to admit grudgingly that Emmett _did_ have good taste. He was surprised, too, that the man could actually tone down his color scheme, at least when it came to someone else.

Emmett whistled as Justin blushed shyly. "Honey…..be still my _heart_! That outfit is to _die for!_" He gently nudged Justin and waved his hands, encouraging him to turn all the way around. "Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm," he murmured as he clucked at him. "Better get a bodyguard for YOU tonight, Sweetie. You're going to _need one_," he warned him, only half kidding now. The outfit Justin had finally chosen (with Emmett's somewhat aggressive encouragement) fit him to a tee and accentuated every curve of his body. He was decked out in a shimmering, light blue sleeveless nylon shirt and black leather pants that snugly showcased his wonderfully rounded ass and his surprisingly large cock. "You look delicious enough to _eat_!" he marveled. Lowering his voice, Justin's face reddened even more as Emmett whispered in his ear knowingly, "And don't surprised if someone tries to do just _that_ before the night's over, if you know what I mean….."

"Em, please….." Justin beseeched him, totally embarrassed. It wasn't as if he didn't have raging hormones just any other red-blooded, young American gay male. He just wasn't the kind to go around flaunting it. The thought of being a piece of meat on display for everyone to see made him uncomfortable for some reason. "It's just a job….."Justin began reasonably, although he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Emmett or himself.

"Uh, huh." Emmett looked at him in amusement. If Justin thought he was just going to march into Babylon wearing _that_ and think he could just stand over in the corner observing how everyone oohed and ahhed over only the _cake_, he was deluding himself. Looking at the outfit he had helped Justin pick out, he was certain the artist's cake wasn't the _only_ sweet thing men were going to want to sample tonight. "Whatever you say, Baby. But just promise me you _are _buying this and you _will _wear it tonight. This outfit was _made_ for you!"

Justin continued to stand there uncertain and just a little nervous. He had seen the way Kinney had looked at him last night while he was simply wearing an apron and his somewhat grungy, everyday clothes. The man's intense looks had unnerved him and made him feel awkward, even though he thought he did an admirable job of hiding it from the other man. He also remembered how arrogant the man had acted earlier, as if he were God's gift to the gay world of Pittsburgh. _Well, Mr. Kinney…maybe, just maybe it's time to show you that not everyone swoons and succumbs to your immense charms, _as he was sure the man would call them. As the salesman came over to ask how everything was going, Justin made up his mind. "I'll take it," he said firmly, as Emmett nodded his approval and smiled. _Game on, Mr. High and Mighty._

* * *

_Babylon – 6:00 p.m. Wednesday_

Brian leaned his back against the bar and nodded his approval as he surveyed the preparations for Mikey's party. He was opening the club up early tonight, expressively for his friend's grand opening celebration. He had enlisted Mikey's _significant other, _Ben (_God, he detested that phrase_!), as well as Lindsey and Deb, to make sure they came up with a plausible excuse to bring him over around 7:00 for the surprise party; now he was doing a cursory inspection of the club to make sure everything was in order.

He noticed the familiar, multi-faceted disco balls were twirling above in their customary locations, but the lights had been dimmed darker than normal in keeping with the mysterious, secretive world of a superhero enclave. As his disc jockey played some of the possible music for later tonight, Brian carefully studied the room to make sure all the decorations were in place as he had requested.

On the large screens where gyrating, muscled bodies normally would be displayed, he had instead replaced them with oversized versions of some of Michael's choice comic book covers. One screen, of course, displayed his favorite, Captain Astro, but Brian had also reproduced other dramatic illustrations of Batman, Captain America, Spiderman, Aqua Man and Superman. High above the dance floor dangled black lighted versions of several planets, and a thick blanket of stars overhead was projected from two huge cameras at the side of the room in keeping with the Captain Astro terrestrial theme. The bartenders had been clothed in spaceman outfits made of tight, shiny spandex material that left nothing to anyone's imagination, and he had draped the side walls of the club in gold and black.

A few of the invited guests for Michael's party were already mingling among a long table on the stage that was adorned at one end with every cheeky type of space-themed food anyone could think of: Moon Pies, Milky Way Bars, "Cosmos-politan" drinks, _Out of this World _meatballs, Orbit gum, even pitchers with Tang and pouches of authentic, dehydrated astronaut food. Thankfully, there was "normal" food mixed in with the extraterrestrial snacks at the other end, what one would consider typical meat and side dishes from one of Pittsburgh's more prestigious catering firms. However, the center of the table was noticeably bare; it was presently being reserved for Mikey's cake, which was hopefully going to be the featured highlight of the buffet he was going to be serving later in the evening during the festivities.

Glancing over at the carb-laden table, Brian frowned as something suddenly occurred to him. Checking his watch, his suspicions were confirmed. It was 6:10 p.m., and so far there was no sign of the afore-mentioned, fuckingly expensive Captain Astro cake. He looked around but did not see the _Doughboy_ cake designer anywhere. _Where WAS the man? He knew I told him 6:00. I need that fucking cake here before Mikey arrives, or it will ruin the whole surprise._ Frowning in disapproval, he was about to walk outside to use his cell phone to call the shop when he thought he spotted Taylor's flamboyant partner – what was his name? Eldon? Edward? Eugene? EMMETT – that was it – Emmett walking in holding a large cardboard box by one end. The box looked almost big enough to hold a _refrigerator_; he was hoping it meant the cake he ordered was in there instead. _It'd better be,_ he thought, as he walked closer to the taller man. He could tell someone else was holding onto the other end but all he could see was the person's bottom half. Smirking, though, he was nevertheless able to instantly recognize who it was – he would know that perky little bubble butt _anywhere_.

Justin almost dropped his half of the box as he was startled by a deep, throaty voice that seemingly came out of nowhere. "Your watch battery stop?" it simply said sarcastically in a false tone of concern. "Cat get run over by a car?"

_Ah – sweet and sincere as always._ "No," Justin retorted back. "My watch battery didn't stop, and I don't own a damn cat," he replied in a mockery of the other man's voice. "There was a bad accident right down the street," he informed him. "We had to take a detour around it. We got here as fast as we could," he curtly told him. Justin didn't slow his pace down as he talked to Brian; the cake was too damned heavy to put it down and try to pick it back up. But to his annoyance he realized he wasn't sure where the man _wanted_ it. _I know where I would LIKE to put it, _Justin thought defensively. Out loud, though, he asked him politely, "Where do you want me to put it?"

Whatever snappy, teasing comeback Brian was about to utter died on his lips as he was finally able to get a better look at the fiery blond he had tangled with last night. As Justin passed by him, also, he was able to take a more sweeping gaze at his attire. _Oh, my God_. His mouth practically watered and his cock immediately began to stand at attention as he took in the other man's almost translucent, sleeveless silvery blue top and his snug-fitting, black leather pants that seemed to be sprayed onto his body, leaving nothing to the imagination. And Brian had a _very_ active imagination. His mouth actually gaped open as Justin slowly continued to walk along with Emmett as he held tightly onto the box, the muscles in his slender arms rippling in response to the cake, which seemed to get heavier by the second.

Brian was snapped out of his trance by Justin's chiding reproach. "Hey!" he practically shouted. "Are you fucking deaf? This thing weighs a TON! I said….WHERE do you want us to put the _cake_?" What was _wrong_ with this man? One minute he couldn't keep a sarcastic crack from escaping his lips and the next minute he was speechless. Justin stared directly into the cake box's side, too worried about keeping his creation upright to notice the look on Brian's face.

It wasn't lost on Emmett, however, who was facing the other direction and had a better vantage point to observe Kinney's expression. He bit his lip and cleared his throat to keep a knowing smile from appearing on his lips; Em had been around the block enough times to know that this man had it BAD for a certain blond. There was no denying the hungry, lust-driven look in THOSE eyes. At that moment, he knew Lindsey had been at least _partially _right. There was no denying Kinney's attraction for his friend now. Only time would tell, though, if there was going to be a mutually spontaneous combustion sometime later tonight between those two seemingly distinctly opposite men.

Brian finally regained his composure and slipped his superior, indifferent mask back on as he said, his voice dripping with scorn, "_Hello_…..It goes up on the stage in the middle of the buffet table. Or did you think we just left it bare in case the Martians needed somewhere to _land_ later?"

Justin rolled his eyes; this man was unbelievable. Can he not conduct any conversation without being a total pain in the _ass_? "Em," he told his friend, his voice heavy with irritation, "Let's walk it up over on the far end of the stage. There're less people over there." The last thing he wanted to do was wind up tripping over someone or something and fall flat on his face, cake and all. They had already had one too many accidents already, thanks to a certain conceited brunet whose eyes he could feel were following his every footstep closely. _It's as if he's hoping I trip over my own two feet so he could point out that he wasn't the ONLY one who was clumsy. _Justin slowed his progression down intentionally to make sure that didn't happen as he and Emmett thankfully were able to navigate the five steps up to the stage successfully and laboriously walk the cake box over to the buffet table.

"Okay, Em, hand me the knife," Justin requested, as Em reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folding knife; Em eyed his friend warily, fervently hoping Justin was going to use it on the box and not on a certain brunet. Fortunately, his friend took it and slid the knife over the taped end to open it; Em held the still-closed end firmly as Justin slowly slid the hardwood base that was holding the Captain Astro cake out of the box. Collective gasps of awe and disbelief rose as the crowd nearby was able to see what had been inside the box and were standing there, mesmerized. The cake fortunately had arrived in pristine condition to Justin's great relief as he made a perfunctory study of it and carefully unsheathed the more fragile parts from their bubble-wrapped cocoon. As Emmett took the bubble wrap and placed it inside the now-empty box to haul it away from the stage, Justin was left alone to place the finishing touches on the cake. Once Captain Astro was freed from his initial confines, the blond hit a switch hidden at the bottom of the cake and the superhero came instantly to life, beginning his circular journey over the darkened outline of Pittsburgh's nighttime skyline. The spun-sugar gaslights began to glow softly and the windows lit up in the skyscraper buildings as the black lighting took effect and bathed the cake in a mysterious, secretive light. Ever the perfectionist, Justin stood back a few feet to look the cake over meticulously, ensuring that it was made to his satisfaction. To his relief, the cake appeared just like he had hoped; in fact, under the subdued lighting, it looked even _better_. He smiled to himself – this one was one for the record books. It was by far the best one he had made and he was extremely proud of it.

Just like in the comic book pages that Michael loved so well, you could hear cries of praise rise up from the crowd who had rushed over to stand agape near the magnificent piece that Justin had created. Instead of "Zowie!," however, he could hear murmurs of "unbelievable," "wow," "incredible," and "is that a cake?" escaping their lips. Justin smiled to himself – from the comments and the stunned looks on everyone's faces, it seemed his mission to astound everyone had been accomplished.

The astonished looks of the crowd on stage were mirrored by the club's owner. As soon as Justin had started Captain Astro's trek around downtown Pittsburgh and the lights had began to twinkle and glow all over the cake, Brian couldn't believe it. He would have never told the young blond how impressed he had been with Gus' Dimetrodon cake, even though it HAD been incredible, but this….this _cake_ (that didn't seem like too substantial a word for _this_ piece) was fucking _unbelievable_. He shook his head in amazement, absolutely floored by what the artist had conjured up for Mikey. When he had been persuaded somewhat hesitantly by Lindsey to allow Justin Taylor to create a cake for his best friend's party, he had been skeptical. He had done a pretty decent job of creating Gus' cake, but he had still been dubious that the Captain Astro cake would be anything extraordinary. But this cake went leaps and bounds beyond his wildest imagination; he was sure Mikey was going to be as impressed by it as HE was – only he wasn't going to tell the little _Doughboy_ that; no point in giving him a big head to go along with his big…..Brian shook his head. No, he wasn't going there. No little twat was going to get to him. Yes, he could admit to himself that he found Justin Taylor hot and sexy as hell. But it was one thing to tell _himself_ that; telling the little cake artiste himself was _another_ matter.

His body, unfortunately, had other plans as watched the admiring crowd continue to shower praise upon the blond standing by his masterpiece on the stage. All of a sudden, Justin smiled, a wide beaming smile, and Brian grew hard at the sight. If he thought the blond was attractive before, he was downright _stunning _when he smiled. He had the most radiant, captivating smile he had ever seen, and in that outfit he was wearing, he was damn near irresistible. Brian began to walk toward the stage as he tried to think of something to say that would sound both sophisticated and attractive to the blond without sounding like he was _actually _interested in him. Just as he got within a few feet of him, however, a silver-haired, blue-eyed man walked up to Justin and lightly placed his hand on the other man's upper arm. He watched, his eyes dark with anger and some other emotion (there was no fucking way it was jealousy, however), as Justin laughed congenially at what the other man had said. The light-haired man nodded and smiled before Brian thankfully saw him walking away.

Justin looked over out of the corner of his eye and observed Brian Kinney approaching him. He cursed inwardly as he felt his face flush; his eyes roamed hungrily over the man's outfit for the night. His tall, lean frame was casually but classically accentuated by a tight pair of blue jeans and a black, sleeveless wifebeater shirt that highlighted his toned, tanned and somewhat muscular arms. His whole body language spoke out a warning of _danger ahead_ to Justin, who was sure the brunet would undoubtedly at least be pleased with his final product. Now, however, as he saw the man's expression on his face, his confidence faltered. For some reason, the man did _not_ appear to be pleased. _What could possibly be the problem NOW_?

"Who's the adoring fan?" Brian growled to him without so much of a greeting of any kind.

"Excuse me?" Justin answered, confused.

"The Anderson Cooper wannabe," he muttered, jerking his hand in the retreating man's direction. "This is an _invitation only_ party, Doughboy. I'm not wasting all my hard-earned money on one of your doting groupies," he snapped in irritation.

"_My doting groupies?_" If he hadn't been so aggravated with the man, Justin would have found that statement ludicrous. God help him if he should actually be permitted to have one extra guest show up – only thing was, Malcolm Andrews _wasn't_ a guest.

"For YOUR information, _Mr. Kinney_, that _Anderson Cooper wannabe_, as you put it, is one of my professors at PIFA," he informed Brian icily, his soft blue eyes flashing with annoyance. "He allowed me to use the drawing of my Captain Astro cake for my final project of this quarter so I could save some time between my cake designing and art portfolio at school. He just came over to see the final result and was complimenting me on it – _period – _which is a hell of a LOT more than you've done, by the way. He's leaving now because he has a class to teach this evening, so don't worry – I'm sure he can resist temptation and leave your Moon Pies and Orbit Gum _alone_."

Brian cringed inwardly at the misunderstanding, but remained stone-faced nonetheless. An uninvited thought crept into his mind. _Maybe HE can resist temptation…..but can I?_ _How does this little, slender dynamo DO this to me?_ Brian Kinney wasn't used to being susceptible to any man's wiles, especially a little spitfire like this. Despite his enormous attraction to this younger man, he wasn't about to break that rule now; HE was always the one in control – at least it had to _appear_ to be that way, anyhow. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

"Well, I spent a lot of money on this spread," Brian retorted, "and I can't afford to have a bunch of party crashers showing up."

"Oh, heaven forbid," Justin snapped in response. "We wouldn't want someone to sneak an extra Milky Way into their pocket. I'll stand by the cake and make sure there aren't any people showing up from Overeaters Anonymous," he cracked sarcastically.

Emmett, who was standing nearby with a "cosmos-politan" in his hand, smiled; he couldn't help overhearing the bantering being volleyed furiously back and forth. _Boy, are THESE two a sorry pair. Both so obviously attracted to each other but ready to rip each others' eyes out. Well, why don't I just up the ante a little bit? I think it's time to take the boy on a tour among his admiring crowd._

"There you are, Baby," Em declared, acting as if he had just spotted him. "I need to steal our _artiste extraordinaire_ away for a little while," he told the brunet, who simply shrugged as if he didn't care one iota whether he did or not. "Everyone's simply _raving_ about your cake, Honey, and they want to _meet_ you," he told his friend enthusiastically. "Come and get one of these cosmos – they really ARE out of this world," he joked, firmly but gently taking his friend's elbow and steering him toward the end of the table where the drinks were. Brian watched the flashy brunet escort Justin away, his eyes never leaving the bewitching blond with the incredibly curved ass. Thoughts of what he could DO to that adorable bubble butt gurgled up to the surface as he continued to stare at the blond's retreating form through half-closed eyelashes with seeming disinterest.

There would be time later, though, to snare a certain blond into his web; for now, he had to concentrate on his best friend's arrival. It was now 15 minutes and counting until Mikey was due to arrive with Lindsey, Debbie, and Ben. Brian looked around the club and noticed it was quickly filling up with well-wishers; he recognized Ted, Todd, Mikey's Uncle Vic, and a girl named Tracy, one of Michael's friends from the Big Q, as well as several other party-goers he wasn't familiar with. He had entrusted the invitations for the party to Ben and Theodore, who seemed to be more in tune with Mikey's former friends from work and his current friends from around the neighborhood. The only stipulation Brian had made was to not invite a total of more than 250 people for the extravaganza; apparently, either Mikey had an enormous base of friends, or there were acquaintances that would _pretend_ to be one for the right incentive – free food and drink at the hottest dance club in gay Pittsburgh. He figured the more, the merrier, though, when it came to his friend; besides, the more males that showed up, the better pool of potential fucking material there would be. _Let the blond Doughboy stew on THAT for a while_, he decided_._

Meanwhile, the _blond Doughboy_ was presently standing next to Emmett, reluctantly holding a Cosmos in his hand. "Em…maybe I should just go," Justin suggested; after all, he had fulfilled his part of the obligation by delivering a knock-em-dead cake; however, after Brian's less-than-enthusiastic review of his cake, what might have been a rather enjoyable night had suddenly been tainted.

Emmett, however, was not about to let Justin give up so easily; _let the brunet see what he's missing for a while_. "Come on, Baby," Emmett pleaded with him. "The night's just getting started. What time is the birthday boy supposed to get here – 7, isn't it?"

Justin nodded. "Yeah. What time _is_ it?" By his mental calculations, it must be getting close to that time now. He _had _noticed that the room was quickly filling up as the time began to get closer to the official start of the surprise party.

Emmett took a quick glance at the tangerine-banded watch on his wrist. "About ten 'til," he told his friend. Just then, they saw the lights quickly flickering on and off similar to the opening of a play before they heard the disc jockey asking for attention. He instructed everyone to clear out of the center of the room and hide behind the enormous, flowing black and gold curtains draped along the sides of the club walls because the guest of honor would be there momentarily. Emmett clapped his hands. "This is it!" he exclaimed excitedly; time for everyone to see all of Justin's hard work and time for them to get some much-needed accolades. "Come on!" he encouraged his friend, tugging on his arm to pull him over toward the side of the room. Emmett spotted an adorable-looking dark-blond twink and abruptly rushed over to the same curtain, hoping he might snare an introduction in the process. Justin huffed a little in irritation. _Thanks, Em_, he thought ironically, as he looked around frantically for a hiding place of his own.

Brian took his place behind the curtain nearest to the entrance; it just so happened that another man decided to hide there, also. Even in the dimmed lighting, the brunet didn't have any problem figuring out who had joined him. He smirked, blessing his good luck, as he stood there watching the blond slowly back up until he was within arms' reach of him.

Justin almost screamed as two lean, strong arms tightly wrapped themselves around his upper torso and locked his own arms at his side. He felt his adrenaline rising and started to struggle until he felt a warm breath caress his cheek and a familiar-sounding voice whispering, "_Surprise."_ As the blond twisted his head around to verify it was the ever-cocky Brian Kinney himself, Brian added, "Just practicing…..," before he let the younger man go reluctantly and smirked, the arrogant outer shell back on his face in an instant. After all, he reasoned, it wouldn't be too wise for him to let the other man know just how horny that brief contact had made him. The blond's slender body had fitted itself perfectly to his, affording him a chance to inhale the man's smell – an enticing combination of some type of fruity shampoo and buttercream residue. To his chagrin, Brian had instantly felt his pulse speed up and his cock harden.

Brian, though, wasn't nearly as furtive as he thought he was; his reaction hadn't escaped a certain blond's notice. Just before the disc jockey softly admonished everyone to be quiet because the guest of honor was about to enter, Justin gathered his nerve and scooted over closer to the brunet, leaning up on his tiptoes. Brian felt an explosive jolt of electricity and bit back a gasp as a slender hand suddenly grasped his shoulder for support and a soft breath tickled his cheek as heard a quiet whisper, "I don't think you _need_ practice," before the warm touch was gone in a heartbeat and the man scooted away from him a few feet for his own safety.

Brian was just about to do some exploring of his own when the lights were turned off completely and a pervasive hush fell over the room; he could hear voices just outside the door. _Saved just in time, Mr. Taylor…Later_, he vowed silently; _Count on it._

Brian heard his best friend's voice now as the door slowly opened. "Are you _sure_ Brian said to meet him _here?"_ Michael said, as he opened the door wider. "Looks like the place is closed," he added, just before the lights came on abruptly and everyone jumped out of their respective hiding places to yell an animated, "Surprise!" It was finally time to get the party started, as Brian's thoughts lingered on a particular _private party_ he was anticipating he would be having later that evening.


	6. Chapter 6: To the Victor Go the Spoils

Michael's face broke out into a wide smile of elation as the disc jockey encouraged everyone to call out "Happy Birthday" to him and he recognized Brian and several other friends among the sea of faces surrounding him. The bright lights began to dim and were replaced by the softer black lights spread throughout the room as the room was suddenly filled with the familiar thumpa-thumpa sounds of disco-type music. Michael took a moment to look around the room at the oversized comic book covers being flashed on the walls and the traveling spotlights that suddenly appeared, swinging like pendulums throughout the space as if Captain Astro was searching for his latest criminal to nab.

"Holy shit!" Michael cried out in awe as Brian approached him, smiling at his friend in delight. He was thrilled by Mikey's reaction to his hard work to make his friend's birthday party one to remember.

"You like?" he asked his friend, his lips curling under in mock humility and his eyes twinkling over his friend's look of awe. He didn't really need an confirmation, however.

"Do I _like it?_ Are you kidding? This is fucking _incredible_, Brian!" he assured him excitedly, as he exhuberantly pulled Brian's head down for a quick kiss of gratitude. "I don't _believe_ this!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining like a little boy at his first Christmas. He looked over at Ben and grinned at his lover foolishly; he didn't care, though, because there was no way anyone could ever surpass _this_ birthday. "Ben, can you _believe this?_ It's Captain Astro come to _life!"_

"Yeah, I see that," Ben told him, placing his hand around his partner's shoulders. "I have to hand it to you, Brian. This is really something," he told the brunet, shaking his head in wonder; he was happy to see how thrilled Michael was by his surprise party. As several of Michael's friends wandered up to wish his partner a happy birthday, a movement out of the corner of his eye caused the professor to turn his head toward the stage nearby. He could see a buffet spread set out on a couple of long banquet tables, but what caught his eye was a towering structure that appeared to have a model of Captain Astro himself circling overhead. "What is _that?"_ he asked Brian, his eyes full of curiosity. The puzzled expression in his tone of voice caused Michael to see what he was looking at. He did a double take as he instantly recognized his fictional idol on top of what appeared to be a sculpture of some sort.

As they looked back at Brian for an explanation, the brunet grinned. "That's the _piece de resistance_," he explained. "Come and see," he said, hooking Michael by his shirt front playfully and pulling him along. He led his friend up to the stage with Ben following closely behind. As the crowd parted to allow him room, Michael finally got a good look at what had attracted Ben's attention.

"Oh, my God!" His mother screamed behind them as the three men jumped, startled. "What _IS _that?"

Brian smiled in triumph; the incredulous looks of fascination on all their faces was worth the money he had paid and the aggravation he had had to endure from a certain _spunky_ blond in order to earn it. "That, ladies and gentlemen," he informed them, sweeping a hand toward their object of fascination, "is a _cake_."

"You're _kidding_ me!" Michael exclaimed in disbelief, while he watched enthralled as his idol flew smoothly around the skyscrapers of downtown Pittsburgh; the black light effect from the special overhead lights in the club made the windows glow and almost seem to twinkle. "This is a CAKE? I've NEVER see anything _like_ this before…this is _amazing!_" He leaned in to take a better look at the intricate detailing. "Look, Ben! It's ME!" He beamed as he pointed out his replica standing on the roof of the tallest building. "And I've got rippling _muscles_!"

"Yoo-hoo! Look this way, Michael!" Deb shouted at him and waved while she held up her camera to take a picture. "Smile, Honey!" Among several hoots and guffaws from his guests, Michael accommodatingly turned and faced his mother, posing with his hands on his hips and his feet spaced rigidly apart in a perfect imitation of his smaller alter ego.

After several shots of Michael, Brian and Ben with the cake, Debbie joined the ever-growing group of admirers examining the cake's features. As he peered over at his best friend's radiant smile, Brian had to grudgingly admit it – the cake was without a doubt the hit of the party and had made Michael extremely happy, not to mention the publicity it was helping to raise for the impending opening of his shop. His doubts about the _Doughboy's_ talents – at least when it came to creating cakes to impress clients – had definitely disappeared after seeing _this_ creation.

As his thoughts strayed to the cake's designer, he tried to look around to see just where the _artist extraordinaire_ had gotten to; the last time he had seen him was when they had their oh-so-short but still stimulating encounter behind the curtain. In the vast stream of people approaching Michael to wish him a happy birthday and also see the magnificent cake, however, he couldn't tell where he had gone. He bit back a small surge of disappointment at the thought that perhaps Justin hadn't stayed for the rest of the party; after all, there were tons of attractive men here tonight and Brian could have his pick of any one of them. Why should he care if the blond stayed or left?

"This is absolutely the most amazing thing I have ever seen, Brian," Michael continued to marvel as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I have never seen anyone make a cake like this. Who made it?" he asked him curiously, not able to take his eyes off the cake as he discovered more and more identifiable details of his home town interspersed throughout the design. "Ben, look at that - it's MY shop! Oh, my God!" He pointed excitedly to the replica of his comic and collectible shop as Ben nodded and smiled in recognition.

"He's the same man who designed Gus' dinosaur birthday cake," Brian heard Lindsey tell Michael as she came up and stood behind them; she gave Michael a congratulatory kiss on his cheek. "His name's Justin Taylor. He's an artist at PIFA. He does amazing work, doesn't he?" she said, as everyone within hearing distance nodded in agreement. She lowered her voice to a whisper and added, winking at Brian, "He's cute as a button, too." She pointed to a corner of the room at the end of the bar. "He's over there ….the blond in the light blue shirt and black leather pants standing next to the taller brunet with a drink in his hand." She watched with immense satisfaction as Brian's gaze immediately turned toward the bar to seek out the subject of her conversation.

Brian felt his adrenalin begin to pump faster at the mention of the cake designer. He turned to follow Lindsey's direction and noticed that the artist was indeed still at the club. In fact, he appeared to be the center of attention at the bar, as a virtual swarm of men were currently surrounding him, all apparently vying for his favor. As he watched intently, he couldn't help his initial feeling of irritation being replaced by a smug smile on his face as he watched Justin politely acknowledging each suitor but shaking his head slightly with clear disinterest. Brian scowled, however, as he noticed one burly blond fan apparently not taking the hint. He watched as the man continued to intentionally enter Justin's personal space, who was still trying to politely push the man away. Beneath the blond's civil demeanor, however, Brian could see the beginnings of a little fear creeping in. _Well, Doughboy, you might be king when it comes to creating fantastic cakes, but when it comes to defending yourself, looks like you have a lot to learn._

"Uh, Mikey, everyone's waiting for you to cut the cake." He somewhat distractedly reached over to pick up the knife lying next to the birthday cake. "If you will do the honors, Birthday Boy, we can see if this cake tastes as good as it looks."

As Brian started to leave, Michael asked with surprise, "Where are you _going?"_

"On a short rescue mission," he answered mysteriously in departure. "Go ahead – I'll be right back," he promised his friend.

Amidst a protest from Mikey about not wanting to cut into such an extraordinary cake, Brian didn't wait around to see whether he would go ahead and slice into it or not before he quickly turned around and threaded himself as fast as possible through the large throng of partygoers and made a beeline toward the end of the bar where he had last seen Justin. As he got closer to where he had last seen the artist, he could see his friend, Emmett, speaking to the ardent suitor who was still practically hanging all over the blond. "How about I buy you another drink?" Justin's friend was asking the admirer in an unsuccessful attempt to divert his attention.

But even if he were interested, the last thing this man needed was another drink, Brian quickly determined. He had been around his share of drunks before to know that this large, muscular fan was most definitely smashed to the gills; his voice was loud and garbled as he continued to advance on Justin, who slowly backed up toward the bar. "Come on, sweet cheeks…Let's have a little taste," he slurred as Justin felt his back bump up against the bar's counter; he could smell the liquor and heavy cigarette stench on his rasping breath. He smiled nervously and swallowed visibly as his voice came out in a throaty entreaty, "Uh…..I'm flattered, but I'm here on business." He looked over at Emmett in a frantic, silent plea for help while the muscular bully ignored his polite decline and continued to press himself up against Justin. As Justin decided this man was not going to respond to a simple no, he began now to firmly push his hands against the wannabe suitor's chest; this only allowed the larger blond to wrap his hands around the slender man's back to wrap himself firmly around him in a bear hug hold. Justin's breath caught in his throat as he closed his eyes and prepared for the man to virtually assault him; being so much lighter than the other man, he knew there was no way he could successfully escape his clutches.

A few seconds later, he abruptly felt himself being freed and the lobster-like hands gone as he opened his eyes to gaze into the flashing, angry hazel orbs of Brian Kinney, who had arrived from nowhere and had somehow managed to turn the other man around and deliver a roundhouse, right-handed punch to the man's face, which caused him to stagger and fall down onto the hard, cement dance floor. As the outraged, drunken bull of a man slowly lumbered clumsily back to his feet, Brian motioned for a nearby security employee to help him. "Mark, take _Paul Bunyan_ here outside and KEEP HIM out – he's banned from the club for _good_!" he snarled. As the security man grabbed the large man and half-pushed, half-pulled him toward the club's entrance, the momentary attention the incident had attracted was all but forgotten as the surrounding observers returned to either nursing their drinks or escorting their companions back out onto the dance floor or to the buffet up on the stage.

Emmett rushed over to his friend. "You okay, Baby?" he asked him, his eyes wide with concern. He placed a hand on Justin's shoulder comfortingly as the blond struggled to slow his breathing down. Until Brian had showed up, he was on the verge of experiencing a full-blow panic attack. "I….I _think_ so," he finally managed to reassure his business partner somewhat breathlessly, his body trembling from his near horrific encounter with the brazen bully. That was the first time tonight that he had actually felt afraid for his safety; all the other admirers had merely just given up disappointed. His ardent suitor had been the first man that evening that wouldn't take no for an answer, and it had left Justin more shaken than he was disclosing.

The artist steeled himself to thank his rescuer before he turned to his left and observed his sexy Good Samaritan standing there with a smug expression on his face. The thank you died on his lips as the man cracked, "I'm all for drumming up publicity, Taylor, but did you have to go about it _that _way?"

Justin glared at the brunet in shock. "Do you really think I wanted to _encourage_ that moronic fucker?" He snapped, as Brian slowly walked toward him with that dark and dangerous swagger of his. Justin's breath hitched and his slowly-decreasing pulse rate began to rise once again as his eyes quickly swept over the man from head to toe and then back up again; his body began to tremble anew, but he had a feeling it wasn't from dread this time; rather, it was more from anticipation and a recollection of what had occurred earlier tonight behind that dark curtain. He cringed internally as he shivered slightly and looked away like a deer in the headlights, but his subtle scrutiny of the other man did not by unnoticed; Kinney's twisted smile of satisfaction was sufficient evidence of that. "Well then…..why don't I teach you the PROPER way to _encourage_ someone?"

As Justin licked his lips nervously, Brian thought, _Well, well, well. So you're not made of artificial ingredients after all_. Justin retreated backward, feeling mortified to notice his back once again pressed up against the tall, curved mahogany wood of the bar counter. Despite a teeming crowd surrounding him, and the music pounding overhead as bodies upon bodies began to dance the night away out on the dance floor, Justin's eyes were riveted to only one person – the brunet slowly advancing toward him. Justin felt tense but not out of fear this time. Danger and excitement, maybe, but _NOT_ fear. He couldn't help slowly sweeping his eyes slightly upward to look into the darkened hazel eyes of the sultry frame leaning over him as Brian placed both of his long, lean arms to either side of him, supporting his weight against the bar. Their faces were inches apart as Brian honed in on the full lips of his own live, breathing Pillsbury Doughboy. _I wonder if I could make you giggle like him in bed, too? _Was the unbidden sentiment that settled in his mind as he stared at the inviting mouth just waiting for the right invitation. As Justin bit his lip anxiously, that was all the invitation Brian needed. "Yeah, _sweet cheeks_, time to give ME a _taste_," he growled as he parroted the other man's words. Before Justin could register a protest, Brian grasped the other man by his upper arms and pulled his body flush with his as he leaned the blond's slender form back against the bar; despite their difference in height, Brian thought they fit together perfectly. He stared down at the hot, blond, somewhat tousled firecracker that was now trembling in his arms for a few seconds before he ever so slowly leaned in, his breath slowly tickling Justin's cheek as he finally began to languidly suck on the blond's lower lip. He felt Justin's sharp intake of breath before he reached up to grasp the blond by the back of his head suddenly and ground his lips roughly against his. A silly nursery rhyme floated through his mind – even though it was meant to apply to girls, he thought it was somehow appropriate here….._sugar and spice and everything nice._ _DEFINITELY nice, _he decided, as his tongue reached out to take a swipe across the soft lips; after a few seconds, he smiled against Justin's mouth as it opened to give his probing tongue deeper access.

Emmett gaped at the two men locked in a passionate embrace as Brian virtually tried to swallow his friend whole. He knew the brunet was attracted to Justin, but he couldn't believe the heat that was practically pouring off both men as they continued to kiss. He watched as Justin hands indecisively remained at his side for a few seconds as Brian ravaged his mouth; it didn't take long, however, before he saw the slender, pale hands reach up and wrap themselves around the other man's back, partially in support and partially to explore the taut, smooth flesh underneath the tight shirt.

"What did I _tell_ you?" he heard Lindsey murmur next to him victoriously as she stood observing the mutual pawing going on close by. She smiled elatedly as she continued to watch the two men passionately kissing. "I _knew_ there was something going on with those two…..I've always heard that there's not that much difference between passion and hate."

Emmett snorted softly. "Well, if _that's _the case, these two would be the fucking _poster boys_," he declared; his eyes shot up as he watched his friend desperately clinging to Brian's upper arms for support as Brian continued to aggressively kiss the now willing lips that were giving back as good as they were getting. He heard a moan, but couldn't tell if it was from his friend or Brian; both men, however, were totally oblivious to the display they were currently performing in front of the large crowd of birthday well wishers.

Justin felt like he was in a dream – a _wonderful_ dream – as Brian continued to wantonly plunder his mouth with his extremely talented tongue. He was glad now that his back was up against the club's bar, because his legs felt weak at the knees from the unbelievable, delicious sensations currently coursing through his veins. No other man had ever made him feel this way before – he was panting from the hands roaming all his back and his shoulders as Brian continued to nip and kiss his mouth almost desperately. He gasped in Brian's mouth as he felt the brunet's hands creeping lower to fondle his ass. "Just kneading a little dough," he heard Brian whisper wickedly in his ear, his warm breath washing over him like a tropical breeze as Justin involuntarily moaned in pleasure. Brian had just begun to grind his crotch against the smaller man's as they both heard a shrieking, excitable voice nearby. "Lindsey tells me _YOU'RE_ the wonderful cake artist!"

The unexpected raspy female voice was like having a bucket of cold water thrown on him; it startled Justin back to the reality of just where he and Brian were putting on their blatantly public show. Brian cursed inwardly at Debbie when he immediately felt the other man stiffen in his arms as the blond realized just where he was and how many other people were no doubt watching their provocative, sexy display. As Justin cleared his throat and pushed back firmly from the other man to be released, Brian let him go with extreme reluctance. Just having the blond in his arms and engaging in a few minutes of heavy petting and kissing had made him hornier than he could have ever imagined; he sighed in deep frustration at the unwelcome interruption. He HAD to have this man in his bed and _now_. Unfortunately, his loft was several minutes away and he somehow had the impression that this little dynamo would not be impressed with a quick fuck in the back room, although that at least would have released some of their mutual, pent-up sexual energy that was practically vibrating between the two of them at the moment.

Justin turned and straightened up his light-blue, sparkly shirt, pulling it back to his waist from where it had ridden up to his midriff through the talented, roaming, and relentless hands of a skillful brunet who was silently seething nearby. He let out a deep breath before approaching the red-headed, flashy middle-aged lady who had so boisterously greeted him.

Lindsey smiled, trying hard to keep from laughing, mainly at Brian's obvious glare at being interrupted from conducting such a _pleasurable_ rescue. "Debbie, I'd like you to meet the extraordinarily-gifted artist who designed Michael's cake, Justin Taylor. Justin, this is Michael's mother, Debbie Novotny."

Justin's country-club manners instinctively took over as he smiled graciously at the compliment Lindsey had bestowed upon him and shook the woman's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he politely greeted her, although the acknowledgement came out as somewhat breathless; he was still trying to recover from his encounter with Brian.

"Honey, it's a HONOR to meet you! That is not just a cake you made – it's a _fucking_ _masterpiece_! We hated to cut it up, it was so pretty! Don't worry, though – I made a ton of photos of the cake before I would let Michael take so much as one little corner out of it! That cake is _amazing!_" she gushed as she reached over to impulsively give Justin a hug and a red-lipsticked kiss on his cheek.

Justin blushed deeply at the effusive compliments pouring from the woman's mouth. "Uh….thank you, Mrs. Novotny," he replied almost bashfully.

"Oh, please, it's _Debbie_, Sunshine," she chirped out the nickname for him, as she reached up quickly to pinch his cheek like he was a newborn babe. "Don't you just have the cutest _fucking_ smile?" she gushed. "You just have the most talented hands to go with that smile – do you have a business card?"

He could hear Brian snorting nearby at Debbie's comments about his _talented _hands. He ignored the double entrendre as he reached in his pocket to obligingly hand Debbie a somewhat primitive card touting his and Emmett's business. Brian stood leaning casually against the bar, aghast at the rapid change in events. _I was about to discover just how talented those HANDS were myself…..until YOU interfered_, he tried to telepathically telegraph to his friend; unfortunately, Debbie seemed either oblivious or indifferent to Brian's thwarted plans as she continued to putter around Justin like he was the newest Wonder of the World.

Internally Justin was actually relieved in a way; he had almost let things get totally out of hand with Kinney in an overtly public setting; hell, if things had gone on much longer, both of them might have wound up without a stitch of clothing on and they would have probably been totally oblivious to that fact. Justin couldn't deny he was strongly attracted to the classically beautiful, elegant but oh-too-confident man; but he had come here tonight to gain some much-needed publicity for his and Emmett's business, _not_ to get laid in front of hundreds of horny men. Apparently all the brunet had to do was place a single hand on him and he knew he would be like putty in his hands; or in his case, _fondant_ on a cake. Pliable and spineless. Well, he didn't have just himself to think about; he also had Emmett and their business. _Time to get back on track, Taylor_. _His cock, and the rest of his body, would just have to fucking WAIT for now._

Trying to at least temporarily put the sexy ad executive out of his mind for now, he took a deep breath and pasted on a business-like expression as he told Debbie, "I'm so glad you like the cake. I hope you'll help spread the word about our business," he told the woman, nodding toward Emmett to acknowledge him as the other partner. "We not only create cakes, but Emmett is a wonderful party planner and a great cook. I hope you'll keep us in mind if you or anyone else you know needs those types of services."

Brian had to stifle another snort; he'd been trying to engage Justin in his _services_ all evening. He just wasn't having much luck so far. But Brian Kinney could be extremely persistent, as well as persuasive, when the need arose. And it was _definitely RISING._

"Oh, you can _bet_ on it, Sunshine!" Debbie was exclaiming enthusiastically. "That cake was not only beautiful but it was _delicious_, too! And aren't you just the cutest thing?" she added, evoking another embarrassed smile from the blond. "In fact, if you've got some more cards, I'll put them next to the cash register at the diner where I work – you'll have more business than you can handle if I have anything to say about it!"

Justin beamed at the invitation. "That'd be _great!"_ he acknowledged with a grateful smile. "Which diner do you work at?" he asked her curiously.

"Liberty Diner down on…where else? Liberty Avenue," she told him, letting out a guffaw as if it were the funniest joke in the world. "Come down and have a bite sometime, cutie," she told him. "Now I'm going to go back up on the stage and grab another piece of cake before it's all gone! Talk to you later, Sunshine!" she told him, as the red-headed whirlwind rushed back toward the buffet tables.

Justin shook his head in amused wonder at Debbie just as he recognized the guest of honor rushing toward them.

"_There_ you are!" Michael called out to Brian, as he hurried over to his friend. "You've GOT to come and _see_ this!" he told his friend. "Ted gave me a _mint-condition_ Lost in Space Robot _with the box!_" He tugged impatiently on Brian's sleeve. "Come on! This is the most _wonderful_ birthday I've ever had," he crowed gratefully; he was so caught up in his celebration he didn't even notice Justin standing nearby.

"Go on ahead, Birthday Boy," Brian advised him, smiling slightly at the man's contagious enthusiasm. "I'll be right there – I promise." Michael stared at him briefly in puzzlement, noticing a strange, indecipherable look on his friend's face before he nodded in agreement. "Okay," he told him, "But don't take too long," he added before he turned toward Ben who was waiting nearby and followed him back up to the stage where his presents had been laid out for him to open.

Finally relatively alone again, except for the rather boisterous crowd volleying for a place at the bar, Brian relinquished his place by the counter to approach the blond artist who had set his blood rushing through his veins and his unsatisfied frustration to remain unquenched. Emmett watched in fascination as the brunet again walked up to Justin and, towering over him, leaned in until only the blond could hear what he had to say amidst the boisterous conversation and music. Brian saw the other man shiver as he angled his head to whisper softly in his ear, "This isn't over, _Doughboy_. Don't forget, we've got some _unfinished business_ to take care of. And by the time I get through with you, you're going to be _begging_ me for another taste yourself," he told him rather arrogantly, a gleam of tantalizing danger in his eyes. "That is...if you're not _afraid to_," he cracked cockily.

Justin smiled a little at the out-and-out promise – or was it a challenge? conveyed in that husky, deep, drawling voice. To an artist trying to make his way in the dog-eat-dog art world, competition was second nature to him; he _thrived_ on besting the best. We'll _see_ who winds up begging here, he thought. _To the victor go the spoils, Mr. Kinney_. _Game On, Round Two._

Twisting his mouth in what he hoped was a semblance of confidence, he replied, "I'm never afraid of a challenge, _Mr. _Kinney. And don't YOU forget – you owe me an advertising campaign in addition to my fee. Think you'll be _up_ to it?" he dared the man, meeting his gaze; his heart beat furiously with the emboldened, albeit pretend smugness he was trying earnestly to convey in his tone.

"Oh, don't worry, _Doughboy_," Brian assured him in a seductive murmur that made Justin break out in a cold sweat of slight fear over what he thought he might be about to unleash upon himself. "I can handle anything you can throw at me." The conceited, self-assured smile was back on his face as he turned to go back to the stage to ogle over Michael's unique present from Theodore. "Come over to Kinnetik tomorrow morning and I'll _show you_."

Just before he left, he heard Justin murmur, "Just make sure _your_ sample is as _good as mine_."


	7. Chapter 7: Point and Counterpoint

_Kinnetik – early next morning_

Brian eyed the piece of chocolate marble cheese cake lying on the corner of his desk. Despite his adamant statement last night to his friend that he didn't want so much as a bite of the high-carb, sugary Captain Astro cake, Mikey had insisted he take a piece with him, enthusiastically telling him the confection was "out of this world," just like the superhero he worshiped. And although Brian would never in a million years admit it, he had tried just a teeny, tiny bite of the birthday cake this morning and he had to grudgingly agree – the cake was good. _MORE than good_. It was probably the best, fucking dessert he had ever tasted. Well, at least when it came to _food_, anyway.

At the moment, however, the brunet had some _other_ type of dessert on his mind – namely, the somewhat sweet, somewhat salty taste of a certain spunky, fiery blond with the bluest eyes of flashy determination and chutzpah he had ever encountered. Just a few kisses with the man and Brian knew he was a goner. Now he had to have _more_ – MUCH more. The only problem was how best to go about _getting it_.

"_Just make sure your sample is as good as mine."_

Brian smiled to himself as he thought about the other man's parting comment last night; Taylor certainly had balls – and by the look of his cock size, what balls they _must be_, no doubt. In fact, he had conjured up all sorts of pictures in his mind last night as he resorted to fucking some unknown, nameless trick in the back room of Babylon after Mikey's party to release his sexual frustration. The _Delectable Doughboy_, as Brian began to think of him after their round of passionate but all-too-brief kisses last night, promptly skipped out on the party after their encounter by the bar, to the brunet's profound disappointment. Of course, he wasn't about to let _him_ know that. But he couldn't believe how aroused he had felt in the back room just picturing what it would be like to feel that soft, oh-so-pliant body against his again – in bed, in the shower, and anywhere else he could fuck the artist senseless until the blue eyes literally saw _stars _behind them.

He peered down at his laptop, which was displaying several photos Lindsey had e-mailed him this morning of Michael's party. There were the obligatory photos of the wondrous cake that had gotten so many oohs and aahs, Michael _with_ the cake, Michael with Debbie, Lindsey with Mel, Brian himself with his arm around the birthday star, who was wearing a goofy expression and flexing his muscles just like his smaller alter-ego, general background photos of the partygoers, and even a photo of the outer-space buffet spread before it had been virtually _inhaled_ by the guests. But the one that captured his attention the most was the photo of a certain, hot, blond dynamo standing proudly next to his latest and best creation wearing his shimmering, tight clothes and a blinding smile that was absolutely stunning in its intensity. _Well, Mr. Taylor, today we're going to try and create something TOGETHER – better hold onto your cake pan,_ he thought to himself, smirking self-assuredly.

* * *

_Sugar Plum Cake Design and Party Planning Shop – Same Morning_

"_Just make sure your sample is as good as mine"_

"No, you _didn't_. Oh, my _God_, Baby! Did you _really_ SAY that to him?" Emmett smiled in horrified amusement, partly excited and partly shocked. He had never known Justin to be quite so bold when it came to another man's attentions; the poor boy must have it bad for _this _one. He noticed his friend's face flush as he nodded.

"Yeah, I _did_," Justin confessed ruefully as he winced. He placed both hands over his face in mortification as he sat on one of their stools in the back room and relived his very _sensual_ and most definitely _tactile_ experience with the brunet last night at the club. "Em, what was I _thinking?"_ He cringed inside. "I must have been out of my _fucking_ mind," he decided. There – that was it – the only possible explanation for why he would have made such a bold statement of challenge to this man who practically oozed sex in his deep, melodic, entrancing voice and his slow, graceful, almost _dangerous_ walk - sort of like a long, elegant jaguar on steroids.

Emmett looked over at his friend in sympathy and shook his head; as talented and adorable as he was both inside and out, it was hard to understand why Justin would ever question his self-confidence when it came to attracting men. Hell, if Justin had given him one _iota_ of encouragement when they had first met at the deli where he worked, Emmett would have gone after him in a heartbeat. He was glad now, though, that their relationship had evolved into more of a good friendship instead since they had decided to work together; too often he had seen the unfortunate results of a work romance gone bad. But because he HAD known his friend and worked together with him for a few years now, he knew he was good at _talking_ in a self-assured manner but he didn't always _believe_ in his own hype.

He walked over and placed a reassuring, comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "Honey, I saw the two of you together. You may have _thought_ your feelings were one-sided, but believe me, they _weren't_. Not by a long shot. That sexy, arrogant man definitely wants to get into your tight little…uh, _leather pants_," he finished as Justin glanced up at him and rolled his eyes. It was obvious what his friend was _really_ going to say, but it didn't matter – they both knew it. Emmett _also_ didn't have to say anything about whether Justin felt the same way about _him_ – one look at their lips locked together last night, tighter than a facelift on a 50-year-old, and you'd have to be blind not to notice the mutual lust and sexual attraction pouring off them.

Justin looked up at his friend and sighed, admitting, "I can _tell_ the man's attracted to me, Em, and he's fucking hot, let's face it," he added, his face flushing with heat in remembrance of the man's roaming touch and his oh-so-kissable lips with a tongue that could perform acrobatics inside his mouth like no one else ever had; he noticed Emmett readily nodding in agreement over that statement. "But I don't want to be just another fuck to him, and that's his reputation from what I overheard last night. He pursues a guy until he gets what he wants, and then he drops them like yesterday's news." He threaded his right hand through his errant hair in frustration. "On the other hand, the man still owes us our fee and an advertising campaign. Which brings me to what _else_ I heard," he stated, as Emmett looked over in interest. "Apparently Kinnetik's reputation is well-deserved; the man definitely knows how to advertise – both in AND out of his business," he muttered. _Yeah, he can definitely ADVERTISE_ _his best assets to the utmost advantage if last night's APPAREL was any indication_. Just looking at the man last night wearing that long-sleeved, black shirt that hugged every curve of his torso and those tight, tight, blue jeans had made him hard in a virtual instant. Was he going to be able to keep up with this big-leaguer? Well, if he couldn't, at least he decided he could die _happy_ trying.

"I don't know, Baby," Emmett said thoughtfully, thinking back to what he saw last night; the man's body language was definitely broadcasting more than just a passing interest in snaring a casual fuck. "He may be a big-time player, but I think there's more to his interest in you than just adding you to his list of _been there, done thats_. And besides," he added, his eyes twinkling, "I happen to think you can keep up with him _just fine_."

Justin looked over at him doubtfully. It was one thing to engage in polite conversation with a nice-looking man, exchange phone numbers and maybe go out on a date to get to know him better; it was quite _another _thing to possibly find himself alone with a 6' 1" chiseled and powerful predator of lean, tan, muscular flesh that had eyes that bored right through to your very soul. A man that could quite easily eat you alive and not leave any bones around to tell about it, a man that…..

"Justin? Sweetie, are you _listening_ to me?"

"Huh?" Justin's face flushed as he realized Emmett had been trying to get his attention; he focused his eyes again on his friend sheepishly. "Sorry….I was sort of daydreaming. What did you say?"

Emmett smirked. _Yeah, and I can guess WHO you were daydreaming about, my friend._ "I _said_…You certainly got plenty of compliments about your cake…..Thanks in large part to you, baby, I had all _kinds_ of people asking me about our business…..and I got some cute-looking guys to give me their number, too," he added, winking as he smiled at the thought of having his online date book filled up for the rest of the month. Yes, all in all it had been a very _fruitful_ night for him – and he hoped Justin could say the same, too. The boy just needed a little more encouragement to go after what he wanted – and a little more courage to _pursue _it.

Justin swiveled around on his stool to face his friend as he informed him, "By the way, speaking of Mr. Big Shot," he cracked, "he wants us to come to Kinnetik this morning so we can collect our fee and he can go over the ad campaign he has in mind for us." Actually, Brian hadn't really specified that _both_ of them had to come; truth be told, Justin was just a little too nervous at the thought of being _alone_ with the man. His body had gone into sensory overdrive just being _near_ the guy and engaging in a few, albeit very smoking hot kisses; if he was actually _alone_ with him, God help him. He shuddered at the thought of the two of them together again, no obstacles or people around to disrupt them as the predator devoured his prey. "Can you go over there with me in the next hour or so? I don't have class today until noon."

Emmett paused; _should he or shouldn't he_? Lie, that is. He actually didn't have any particular plans this morning – he had finished up the majority of work for the grand art show gala celebration this weekend, and just had to tie up some minor loose ends. And he _was_ curious to find out just what the best ad executive in Pittsburgh – gay or otherwise – had come up with for their shop. But he also had seen the two looks these two men were giving each other last night, and despite Kinney's reputation, he thought just maybe the man may have more than just a casual interest in his blond friend. Justin was extremely passionate – in his art, his cake designs, his friends, and in his views on everything from politics to his hometown; he deserved someone who could be just as passionate and could provide a challenge to him, and keep him on his toes; it was just possible that this sexy, cocky, and extremely self-assured man could be just the man to fit the bill.

Making a hasty decision that he hoped Justin wouldn't kill him for later, he tried to place a certain degree of regret in his tone of voice as he advised his friend, "Oh, I'm _so sorry_, Baby, but I'm way behind on the art gallery party for this weekend. I'm anxious to see what this Kinney comes up with for us, but I'm afraid you'll have to see him by yourself today. You can bring the information back later and let me know, okay? You know me well enough to know what I would like, and I trust your judgment, sweetie." _You owe me BIG time for this one, Lindsey_, he thought. _I just pray I'm making the right decision here._

Justin cringed inside; _damn it – _Emmett _would_ have to pick this week to fall behind on his party plannng. Normally, he was always on schedule. _Why all of a sudden do I feel like an insect about to be fed to a Venus Flytrap?_ Well, surely Kinney would be surrounded by all sorts of people from his art and advertising departments, wouldn't he? That should make it…what word was he trying to think of? _Safer…..that was it._ It would at least make it safer. Safety in numbers, they always say. Why did that somehow not make him feel less nervous about their reunion this morning? Maybe because the man looks at him like he's some tasty morsel to devour.

"Justin?" Emmett noticed his friend turn to him with a start; apparently he was daydreaming again, no doubt about the same subject.

"Uh…..that's okay, Em," Justin replied softly, trying to focus on their conversation. "I…..can do it alone." _I think, anyway_. He made a spontaneous decision as he told his friend, "I think I'll go over _now_." _Maybe no one will have gone to lunch there yet – safety in numbers, safety in numbers, _he kept repeating silently as his mantra. As he nodded goodbye to Emmett, however, somehow he didn't think that was going to be the case; when it came to Brian Kinney, NO amount of distance would be _enough_.

_

* * *

_

_Kinnetik – One Hour Later_

Justin entered the main, rather austere door of Kinney's business at 10:30, hopeful that he was there early enough to catch everyone still in their office, but late enough that he would also have an excuse to leave in approximately an hour because he would need to depart in time for his first class of the day. Surely he could stand to be around the man for an hour, he thought, trying hard to convince himself but not having much success. Just the thought of encountering him again today had made his palms start to sweat and his heart quicken its erratic beating.

Several employees bustled around him near cubicles as he turned down the main corridor into an open lobby area and encountered a rather tall, attractive blond woman sitting at her desk. Cynthia peered up curiously at the handsome, young blond man approaching her; from her position in her desk chair, she noted that he seemed nervous about something. Thinking he must be a salesman conducting a cold-call, she smiled slightly and asked him politely but coolly, "May I _help_ you?" She noted his remarkable, sapphire-blue eyes as the man smiled back at her almost shyly and announced softly, "I'm here to see Mr. Kinney." He lightly bounced on alternating feet as he spoke to her.

Cynthia figured she was right; although he was dressed rather casually in a pair of linen pants and a long-sleeved, solid blue tee shirt, he must be yet another type of salesman trying to persuade her boss to buy yet another useless product. He certainly didn't seem too self-assured, though, if he was trying to sell him something. Deciding the poor man must be in the wrong line of business, she asked him, "Do you have an _appointment_?" staring at his eyes intently.

Justin shuffled uncomfortably; this woman was certainly direct and to the point; it had the effect of making him even more flustered than he already was. "Uh…..No," he admitted.

Cynthia thought so; she pretty much knew Brian's schedule like the back of her hand, and she didn't recall anyone being scheduled to meet with him around this time. "Well, I'm sorry, Mr.…..?"

"Taylor," Justin replied self-consciously. "Justin Taylor."

"Well, Mr. Taylor, I'm sorry, but Mr. Kinney doesn't see anyone without an appointment." _Although, you're certainly cute enough to get his attention. It wouldn't be the _FIRST_ time he had fucked a salesman, or a copier repairman, or the bottled water delivery man, or any OTHER attractive gay male. _Despite her rather perfunctory dismissal of the slender blond, however, she noticed to her surprise that he apparently wasn't going to give up so easily, because he didn't appear to be ready to leave; rather, he stood there in front of her in thought before he responded, "Uh, I think he's _expecting_ me," he told her, wondering if he should leave now before it's too late.

Cynthia forced herself not to roll her eyes; how many times had she heard _that_ story? Probably at least a couple of dozen or more, from all types of people who for some reason felt like they just HAD to see the owner of the most profitable advertising agency in Pittsburgh. Her job, however, was to make sure that _didn't _happen. Unconvinced, she eyed the rather attractive man and told him, "Well, I rather doubt that. I'm responsible for Mr. Kinney's calendar, and I happen to know he doesn't have _anyone_ scheduled to meet with him this morning."

Justin bit back a sigh; this was not going the way he had planned. What made him think he could just waltz in here and get an immediate audience with the man? He should have known he would have to call and get an appointment first. But the man had told him to just "come over." And that's what he was _doing_ – coming over. Well, by God, he was here and he was going to at least give it the old college try. The man owed him his fee _and_ an advertising pitch. "Please….would you just call him and let him know I'm here? He told me to come over this morning to speak with him." He wasn't about to tell her that her boss had suggested some _other_ activities in addition to just talking to him; nevertheless, to his utter embarrassment he felt his face warming to a nice shade of pink as she continued to look at him oddly.

The sincerity in Justin's voice began to sway Cynthia's sense of duty; he certainly sounded like he was telling the truth, but it was highly unlikely that Brian had just told this man to _show up_, no matter HOW adorable he was. Her common sense warred with her curiosity briefly before she finally decided – _What the Hell_ – and picked up her office.

"Yeah, Cynthia?" Justin felt the pounding of his heart in his chest and his adrenaline began to increase at the sound of that sexy voice. Although Brian sounded like he had been disturbed at the intrusion, Justin didn't care – he could have been dictating a _recipe_ for one of his cakes and the man still would have sounded hot. Even _more_ so, now that Justin knew what the body behind that voice looked like.

"Uh….There's a _Justin Taylor_ here," Cynthia began, as she looked over at the blond, whose forehead was beaded with sweat even though the air conditioning was turned down to an outrageously cold temperature, "he says he was told to c.."

"Well, bring him _in_," was the impatient, quick reply. The normally poised assistant's mouth dropped open – Brian had _never_ allowed a salesman to just show up and see him. Just what was going _on_? Now she was _REALLY _curious. _This should be interesting_, she thought as she rose from her seat. She motioned for Justin to follow her down the hall. "If you'll come with me," she instructed him, as she moved elegantly down the hall, her high-heels clacking on the polished, tile floor – almost in time with Justin's heart that was pounding like crazy.

Brian smiled to himself, excited now that the object of his most recent, vivid fantasies was about to enter his inner sanctum; he thanked the architects he had hired who did the remodeling of his office for the privacy they had provided him. It was about to come _very _handy, he thought, as he felt his pulse unexpectedly quickening in anticipation. He placed his most nonchalant mask on his face as he heard a quick, firm knock on his door. "Come on in," he instructed Cynthia.

Justin swallowed a large lump in his throat as he followed Cynthia into Brian's office; he immediately noticed the brunet sitting at his desk, looking absolutely amazing in a black dress shirt with subtle, thin gray pinstripes; he had rolled up the sleeves to expose the tanned and toned flesh of his forearms. As Brian casually focused his dark brown, expressive eyes on him, Justin felt his breath hitch as his body immediately responded to the man's intense scrutiny. Feeling like he was in way over his head, his feet nonetheless automatically took him deeper and deeper into the lion's den as Cynthia stood aside to introduce him.

Brian, however, didn't give her the chance. He took a few seconds to note the blond's rather tight, royal blue, button-down shirt that set his beautiful eyes off perfectly and snug pants that fit the man in all the right places before he greeted him. "Well, well, well….if it isn't the Sugar Plum Fairy," he cracked, smirking. "Come to compare _samples_?" he intoned innocently, noticing to his satisfaction that the blond's eyes grew slightly larger as he nervously licked his lips. _That's more LIKE it. You're on MY turf now, little boy. _"That will be _all_, Cynthia," he told his assistant perfunctorily, leaving no question that she was being dismissed; although he was speaking to _her, _his eyes never left the young artist facing him.

Cynthia stared at Brian and then back at the young, blond man standing somewhat nervously next to her. Somehow she knew this man wasn't just some salesman that happened to drop by; there was something far more interesting going on than that, but she wasn't quite sure just what. What she _DID _know, however, was that as far as these two men were concerned, she might as well be one of the area rugs, because she was being totally ignored; the pair obviously had eyes only for each other at the moment. She raised her eyebrows in a silent question to her boss, who finally waved his hand in a definite signal for her to go. She smirked then before she nodded her head at Justin and walked to the door, closing it softly behind her. She stood there for a few seconds, desperately wishing she had some type of listening device – even a fucking glass – before she sighed in defeat and slowly walked back to her desk.

Now that Brian's assistant had left, Justin found himself uncomfortably alone with her boss, who continued to stare at him as if he was about to be the man's main entrée for lunch. His feet felt cemented where he stood, somehow unable to move from their spot. Being in Kinney's spacious and quite private office with the door shut was almost too much for him to handle as the other man continued to almost openly leer at him from his large, imposing leather chair.

"Well?" Brian pressed, his upper body sitting up straight as a pin as he continued to stare expectantly at the other man.

Justin blinked his eyes in confusion. Did the man ask him a question? "Huh?" he responded intelligently.

Brian smiled openly now at the man's discomfiture. "Are you going to come closer?" he asked him with amusement. "I promise I won't bite," he intoned smoothly; his voice came out as an inviting, sexy whisper. "That is…not unless you _want _me to." The right side of his mouth twisted in an almost evil leer.

Justin cleared his throat as he felt his face flush; this was not exactly going as he had expected. To begin with, where were the other employees that were participating in this advertising campaign? Were they coming in here to his office? Maybe _that _was it – since he had dropped in practically unannounced, Brian no doubt hadn't had time to call in the rest of "the troops" working on his and Emmett's advertising campaign. He was sure the other man simply had to pick up his phone and announce over the company intercom that their meeting was about to start. Then the others would come rushing in. There….that must be why no one was here yet.

He finally worked up enough nerve to ask the other man in what he hoped was a fairly confident voice (at least it didn't come out as a squeak), "Are we meeting the others in the conference room?"

"Others?" Brian asked him, trying hard to hide his smile at the other man's naivety. He actually found it oddly endearing.

"Yeah," Justin answered. "The others working on the ad pitch for my and Emmett's business," he explained.

"Oh," Brian answered with a gleam in his eye. "There _aren't _any _others_," he confidently advised him. "Your company is small enough that I didn't _need_ anyone else's input," he explained rather smugly. _Actually, I didn't WANT anyone else handling you – just ME_.

He stammered in surprise, "There…there _aren't any others?_" He desperately hoped he had not heard the man correctly. Surely any effective campaign required people who specialized in graphics and text for the advertising; how could there not be any _others_? More importantly, how was he going to manage being _completely alone_ with this man?

"That's right," Brian told him; he watched in silent glee as the blond began to fidget nervously. "Don't worry – I _told_ you I can handle anything you can throw at me," he drawled with that smooth, baritone, hypnotic voice that made Justin's insides begin to turn to mush. "I'm _good _at what I do," he asserted smugly, his lips curling under in amusement at the other's man face of alarm.

Nervous as hell but resigned to being alone with the man, Justin nodded slightly and cautiously approached the other man's desk; he was determined not to let the brunet know how rattled he felt at the moment. He was startled, however, when the brunet rose smoothly from his leather chair. As he stood up, Justin's eyes couldn't help raking downward from his snugly-fitting black dress shirt to the dark charcoal designer linen pants that molded each curve of his taut body in all the right, tantalizing places. Justin felt his breath stop in his throat at the sight before quickly looking down in hopes the other man hadn't caught his keen interest in his attire.

Brian, however, didn't become such a good hunter of the male specimen by overlooking key details, and he didn't miss the other man's obvious interest in him _now_. _Time to put the next part of my plan into action_. Walking out from behind his desk, he reached over his desk _s-l-o-w-l-y_ to pick up his laptop still open on top, his slender, well-toned ass conveniently exposed to the other man's inspection.

Justin was definitely a quick learner; he didn't waste the opportunity to take a closer peek at the other man's enticing anatomy as the tight fabric stretched obligingly around the two firm globes straining as the other man reached to retrieve his laptop. He licked his lips again, but this time it wasn't out of fear. Or maybe it _was_ – a fear of the predator about to strike down his prey. _What have I gotten myself into?_

Brian turned around after he had allowed the other man plenty of time to see what he had to offer. Ignoring the other man's obvious glazed look of interest in his eyes, Brian smiled professionally at him and held a hand out in invitation. "Let's have a seat on the couch," said the _spider to the fly_.

"C…couch?" Justin mumbled as he gulped visibly. Did the man just invite him to go sit on the couch? And worse yet, was _he_ coming over to sit there, too?

"Yeah, you know…. A piece of furniture, usually covered in a plush fabric, made for more than two peo…."

Justin glared at him now; the man's condescending statement promptly jolted him back into self-defense mode. "I know what a _couch_ is, _Mr. Kinney_," he scolded the other man reproachfully.

"Ah, there's that _Mr. Kinney_ attitude again," Brian chided him, as if he were talking to an unruly child. "Haven't we made enough inroads by now that you can call me _Brian?_" he cracked. "After all, we've already traded saliva."

Justin saw the other man curl his lips under in a mocking gesture. The cocky tone of the other man's voice had put him into attack mode again. Couldn't the man be civil for more than five minutes? He shot back at the other man, "Just because you cornered me at the bar last night and took _advantage_ of the situation doesn't mean you can lay me out on the couch like a cod fillet!"

Brian actually laughed at loud at the man's statement and the righteous, indignant look on his face; he thought it was damn near _priceless_. Oh, this was going to be so much _goddamn fun!_

He snorted as if he were offended. "All I asked is if you would join me on the couch so I could go over the advertising pitch I had come up with for your shop, _Mr. Taylor," _he responded reasonably. He purposely walked past the younger man over to the couch and sat down with a flourish, his long legs spread out in front of him and his laptop resting on his knees. "But if you are too _affected_ by my mere presence, perhaps I could _e-mail_ it to you instead."

Justin stared at him in irritation; the nerve of this arrogant, conceited man! And just when he was beginning to like…no, make that _tolerate_ him. His previous nervousness disappeared as he reared up on his full 5', 8" frame and marched over to the couch to take a seat, although he made a concerted effort to place at least a couple of feet between him and the brunet who was currently looking at him and openly smiling now. "I didn't come all the way over here and spend hours with that fucking cake to not get what I was promised!" he retorted. "Now show me what you've got!" he demanded, crossing his hands over his chest in defiance.

Brian looked up from his laptop through hair that had fallen down over his hazel eyes; eyes that were now boring into Justin like a missile about to strike. The previous smile on his face had all but disappeared to be replaced by a serious intensity that made Justin shiver. "Be careful what you _wish_ for, Doughboy," he whispered huskily. "You might not be able to _handle_ what I've got."

"Oh, really?" Justin shot back. "Well, let's just have a look, shall we?" he challenged.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, however, he had the distinct feeling that coming to this man's office was a big mistake; just being a few feet away from him, smelling the no-doubt ridiculously expensive cologne he was wearing, was having an unfortunate effect on him. It was making his heart race and his mouth water at the sexy sight sitting too damn close to him. _Too late now to back out, Taylor_.

Brian smiled again at the man's show of bravado. "What part did you want to see _first_?" he asked suggestively, as he slowly began to slide over closer to the slender blond, who promptly began to scoot his own body away from the other man's. Unfortunately, he soon felt his back bump up against the thick, rolled arm of the couch as he found himself with nowhere else to go.

Brian smiled even more broadly in triumph as he noticed Justin swallow hard; he continued to slide closer to the other man until his body finally came into delicious contact with the more slender one. _Checkmate, Taylor_.

Justin's mock show of confidence faltered in light of the man's warm body leaning on his; his breath came out in quick, almost silent pants now. "Wha…what did you say?" he stammered, his face now merely inches from the other man's as he felt the heat from the taller man's thighs that were pressed against his own.

The reply was soft and breathy as Brian leaned in to whisper slowly in his ear, "I said…..what part did you want to see _first_?" The blue eyes stared back at the brunet like a deer caught in the headlights; not wanting to stay so close to danger, but for some inexplicable reason, unable to escape.

_Get a hold of yourself, Justin!_ He chided himself. _Think money…more business…..Emmett_…..Hell, think of _anything_ besides the warm, oh-so-sexy body currently molded much too firmly against his own and the almost painful hard-on he was currently creating.

_I know which part I would LIKE to see, _came unbidden to his mind. _No…..this is business, damn it! Make him put out…..no, wrong way to phrase it._ He managed to finally squeak out, "You were going to show me the _ad campaign_ you promised to create for Emmett and me," he reminded him, deliberately not looking over into the hazel eyes that were so damn mesmerizing. One look at them and he would completely forget what he was doing there.

Brian smirked, all too aware of the effect he was having on the slender cake designer sitting next to him. Truth be told, the man was having quite an effect on him as well. Just touching him again had brought back all the memories of holding him and kissing him last night, of the _yearning_, the almost addiction he now had, for more…._much_ more. And before today was over, he was determined to _get _it. But he could be patient just a little longer and play it out the way the young artist wanted to…..only because the prize was without a doubt going to be so _worth_ it. "Okay, little Doughboy….Let me start with showing you the new name and logo I've picked out for your shop."

Justin frowned; this was unexpected. "_New name?"_ he repeated. "Who said anything about a _new name_? We've had that name since we got our vendor's license."

"Yeah, well no self-respecting, gay boy would work under a name like _that_," Brian growled. "It's a fucking _pussy_ name. You need something that will pop. Your work is already unique – you need a _name_ that is _just_ as unique."

Justin stared at him in surprise; did this all-too-smug man just give him a _compliment_? "What….what did you have in mind?" he asked him curiously. Being the owner of the most lucrative advertising agency in town, Justin had to grudgingly admit maybe he had a point – _Sugar Plum_ was pretty prissy for a name.

Brian reluctantly turned back to business now as he punched a couple of keys on his laptop to bring up the new store name and logo he had chosen for Justin and Emmett's business. "Here," he told him, swiveling the laptop slightly so Justin could take a closer look; of course, he didn't object that the blond had to scoot just a little closer in order to see the screen at the right angle.

Justin took a deep breath, fervently hoping the man couldn't see the obvious effect he was having on him but somehow knowing that wasn't true as he noticed him raising a lone eyebrow in a silent, comprehending smirk. Instead of acknowledging the response with a defiant one of his own, however, he tried to concentrate instead of studying the computer screen.

The design on the screen appeared to show a prototype website for his and Emmett's business, with the name _Cakes of Art_ written prominently in flowing, cursive script at the top. Brian had written the business' new name entirely out of paintbrushes, and a smear of frosting flowed like a meandering river directly below it in a sort of underline. Beneath the new name were written the words: _Where Edible Art and Imagination Come Together_. Justin also noticed instantly that his Captain Astro Cake was prominently displayed directly below the website's title as an example, complete with a small, rainbow-colored flag flying breezily from a flagpole on the penthouse's roof, right next to Michael's small, costume-adorned alter ego. To say the least, he was _stunned_, probably as stunned as the ad exec had been when Justin had unveiled his friend's cake last night. When Brian had promised to present him with an ad campaign that would _knock his socks off_, he had no idea he would be including a fucking _website_ as well. The whole idea was positively mind blowing; the man obviously knew his stuff. The only problem was, he damn well _knew it_, too.

Brian peered over at the younger man snugly nestled between his body and the arm of the couch, watching as his eyes quickly examined the work he had spent _hours_ doing last night and this morning. For some inexplicable reason, Brian was determined to make sure the blond was knocked off his feet by his work. He didn't really try to decipher the true reason why, but he was determined to impress this man. What _surprised_ him, however, was that he really didn't think he was doing it simply to fuck yet another man he badly desired senseless; he really wanted his _approval_.

"Well?" he asked him, actually a little anxious to hear his response; he _did_ notice that Justin couldn't keep his eyes off the screen and was beginning to smile; both were encouraging signs.

Justin shook his head in wonder before whispering almost reverently, "This…this is _unbelievable_," he marveled. "I never imagined anything like _this_," he admitted sincerely now, his eyes still glued to the screen as he soaked in all the different, professional-looking elements of Brian's idea. "I didn't know you were going to do a _website_; I just thought you were going to make up some type of advertising literature for our shop." He frowned a little now, though, as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "But...the new title of the shop only mentions my cakes - what about Emmett's party planning business?" He didn't want to slight Emmett or hurt his feelings - he cherished their friendship too much.

Brian shrugged. "I studied your financial spreadsheets since you opened the business - your cakes have taken in almost 75% of your sales. It needs to be highlighted more than the party planning part," he advised curtly, all business now. "If you bring in more business for your cakes, the rest of it will follow. If your nelly queen friend insists, you can keep the fag name part for his planning business, and I'll have additional business cards made up to reflect that. But I think that would be a big mistake. Your cakes are what's keeping the two of you in business," he told him pointedly. "Not a silver tray with pigs in a blanket."

Justin had to admit it - he probably had a point. He just hoped Emmett would understand and go along with his suggestions for changes. In either case, having a website in addition to their word-of-mouth advertising was phenomenal. And Brian's work on it was amazing; it was replete with an on-line ordering page, FAQs, a contact page, and even some samples of Justin's work that he must have obtained from Lindsey when she had ordered Gus' dinosaur cake. The man certainly knew his stuff. "This...is much more than I had hoped for," he admitted wondrously as he stared enthralled at the flashy, eye-catching prototype.

Brian warmed at the other man's praise, watching in rapt fascination as the blond's lips moved while he spoke; he already knew how talented those lips were from last night, but he suddenly had other visions of just where _else _those lips could be put to best use, and his body was abruptly rebelling against him at the lascivious thoughts running through his head unrestrained. As Justin continued to study his work, Brian relished in his opportunity to more thoroughly study _him_. The pale, smooth cheeks, the long, long, eyelashes, the blond, flaxen hair that fell rather erratically around his forehead, the light blue, sapphire eyes, and most of all, those utterly kissable, full _lips_. The man was simply fucking captivating, and he _had_ to have him.

Justin felt the other man's eyes boring into him as he continued to marvel at the brunet's work; although he was trying to pretend he didn't notice, it was damn near impossible _not_ to. He could feel his gaze on him, as well the warmth of his body pressed so close to his. He wasn't aware, however, of just how close the man _was_ until he commented to him rather facetiously, "I didn't know you had such good taste."

He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a pair of hot lips begin to nuzzle his neck. "So do_ you_," was the sultry whisper, as he felt the other man's breath caressing him. He immediately felt a lean arm snake down toward his crotch and give it a squeeze as he yelped softly in surprise. He heard a chuckle from next to him and couldn't help turning his face to look into the other man's hazel eyes, which were intensely boring into his. Two pairs of lips that were only inches apart instantly melded together into a cataclysmic storm of passion as Brian growled and roughly grabbed the other man's neck to pull him flush against him.

Time froze for a few seconds as tongues and lips began to duel for supremacy, and Brian turned his head to angle it for a better, deeper penetration. Justin moaned at the intimate, powerful possession, as well as the almost greedy feeling he was receiving from the other man.

Brian's head reeled from the unbelievable emotion churning inside him as he continued to ravage the other man's mouth and began to rub the blond's crotch through his pants in earnest, quickening abandon. If he felt this way while the man was clothed, God help him once he had his clothes _off_. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt before; it was as if this man had been _made_ just for him. His mind frantically churned out ways he could fuck this man senseless – he just needed the right platform to do it on. He searched internally for the quickest and most effective way to achieve his goal right there and now as the moans of pleasure coming from his willing captive became more and more vocal and proceeded to turn him on even more than he _already_ was. _God, he HAD to have this man – he was like a fucking disease._

The unexpected, cacophonous sounding alarm on Justin's wristwatch abruptly broke the silence that up until then had only been punctuated by the moans of exquisite torment coming from both men. It also effectively quashed Brian's earnest goal of seeing the rest of the writhing, wriggling man's body now cradled in his arms. He bit back an extreme groan of protest as Justin pushed against him now and finally managed to break their mutual lip lock. _No…_Brian internally rebelled. _No fucking way...w__hat NOW?_

It took Justin several seconds to regain his voice as his pulse ever so slowly came back down to a more normal, talkative level. He still was breathing heavily as he finally, barely huffed out an explanation, "I….I have to go. I have class in 15 minutes."

Brian couldn't believe this man; they were just about to have the most orgasmic, unfucking believable sex of both of their lives and he had to go to _school?_ Where were the man's _priorities?I_ He protested by still clutching him possessively as Justin looked back at him regretfully. _Do you KNOW what you're passing up here, little boy?_

Justin knew only too well what he was passing up, if his body's reaction was any indication. But he had already missed a day of school the other day when had to repair Brian's handiwork with the cake. There was no way he could miss another day and still keep up.

Brian glared at him, his body fully unsatisfied and intensely craving what he apparently wasn't going to get. _Well, we'll see about that._ As Justin was finally able to stand up to leave and took a few steps to distance himself from the tantalizing temptation staring back at him in annoyance, he heard Brian call out to him, "We aren't _done_ here." Justin closed his eyes; _boy, you could SAY that again._ He managed to respond, "I…..I can come back later this week to pick up our fee and the advertising materials."

Brian growled huskily, "That's not what I meant and you _know_ it, Doughboy." He made a quick, spontaneous decision. "Have dinner with me tonight at my loft," he said dangerously.

"What?" Justin answered, flustered. Did the man just ask him over for dinner? Oh….My….God.

"Yes, dinner…..you know, that quaint custom where you pick up a utensil and…."

Justin interrupted him hastily; he was losing time here and had to go. "Yes, yes, I know what _dinner_ is, you asshole." He shook his head in indecision, not sure if that was a good idea or not. "I…..I never imagined you could even _boil water_."

Brian grumbled. "Actually, I can't. But I know how to pick up a phone to order out. What do you like?"

_You_, came the unspoken response. He let out a choked breath of air as he pondered whether being with this man again in close quarters was a wise idea. "I'm...not so sure that's such a good idea," he finally whispered aloud, unsure whether he was trying to convince the other man of that or _himself_.

Brian pursed his lips together in determination. _You're not getting out of this so easily._ "What are you afraid of, Justin?" he challenged him outright.

Justin's heart leapt; this was the first time he could recall the man actually calling him by his _name_ instead of some sarcastic nickname, and just hearing him saying it now in that slow, deliberately sexy manner he had made his pulse speed up again. _Damn him; he knows I can't back down now._ "I'm...I'm not afraid," he maintained defiantly, although his statement came out with less conviction than he would have hoped.

Brian stared at him amused, but he would not allow the feeling to appear on his face. Instead, he plastered on a mask of determination and scepticism as he countered simply, "_PROVE IT."_

Justin's heart was about to explode from excitement now; he was sure the other man could see it about to come out of his fucking chest from the furious pounding he was currently feeling. Taking a deep breath to try and calm himself, he softly told the other man, "Chinese."

Brian smirked; if he didn't know better, he would say the man had just agreed to come over. That _almost_ made up for his supreme feeling of extreme, pent-up frustration at the moment. "7:00," was the short reply, said as if the other man couldn't possibly say no. He hastily scrawled the address down on a small piece of paper and held it out to the other man.

Justin knew he couldn't say no to this man – the temptation was just too much for any red-blooded, gay American male. He let out another heavy, weighted breath and nodded as he snatched the piece of paper from Kinney's hand and rushed toward the door to leave before he decided to back out. _I am SO fucked_, he said to himself, as he hurriedly walked by Cynthia without so much as a _nice meeting you_.

Openly admiring the other man's delicious-looking ass as he walked away, Brian couldn't help thinking, _I am SO fucked_. This man had him doing somersaults inside. _Well, don't look now, Mr. Taylor, but we're going to do some mutual calisthenics tonight_. _Game on._


	8. Chapter 8: The One That Could Say No!

_Sugar Plum Cake Design and Party Planners – Late Afternoon_

A blond blur burst through the shop, the overhead bell jingling to reveal his entrance. "Em?" Justin called out as he looked around the display areas and didn't see his friend. "Are you here?" He had practically run to their shop after his last class; it was already almost 4:30 and he had only two and a half hours before he had agreed to meet a certain bigger-than-life brunet for dinner. How he managed to get through his four classes this afternoon with any semblance of sanity and competence was a complete mystery to him; as he half-listened to his professors speaking about art history and architecture through the ages, and while he worked on his latest painting for his practicum, he found his thoughts absorbed with his impending reunion that evening with Brian Kinney.

He felt like he had been running around furiously in non-stop mode ever since he had woken up this morning; hell, not just this _morning_ – he had been operating in that speed ever since he had first laid eyes on a certain infuriating brunet at the party goods store and had locked hands with him over their dinosaur duel. Now he felt like an oncoming west-bound train about to collide head-on with an east-bound one as he searched for his friend and business partner.

The object of his search came rushing out of the back room at the sound of the entrance bell. "Hey, Baby!" Em exclaimed, reaching over to give his friend a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I was _hoping_ I'd see you later today. How did your visit with the oh-so-sexy ad exec go? I'm dying to see what he came up with. Was he as good as they say?" he asked the man teasingly as he took a seat next to his friend behind the sales counter.

Justin groaned and felt his face warm as he thought about his _close encounter of the Kinney kind_ this afternoon; Emmett's comment generated all kinds of titillating visions in his head, not only of what had occurred earlier today but what might happen later this evening. "Please, Em – my stomach's already tied up in knots about dinner tonight."

Emmett frowned. "Dinner? What's this got to do with dinner?" he asked the other man, looking at his friend intently and noticing his apparent discomfiture.

Justin twisted his mouth at his faux pas – he had forgotten that Emmett didn't know anything about his dinner invitation this evening yet. "Well, to answer your question….he _did_ show me some ideas he has for advertising our business," he responded, conveniently choosing to overlook his dinner comment; he just wasn't quite ready yet to discuss THAT little issue. "And I think it'll be _great_ for increasing our sales," he assured him. He really was convinced it would; he just wasn't sure how Emmett was going to react to having the name changed. "There _is_ one thing, though…" he began tentatively. He took a deep breath before continuing. "He…wants to change the name."

Emmett looked back at Justin startled. "The _name_? You mean the name of our _business? _Just what is _WRONG _with it?" he asked curtly. He couldn't believe Kinney would suggest such a notion and he was highly insulted; he had chosen that name himself when he and Justin had first discussed going into business together. The Nutcracker Suite had always been one of Emmett's favorite musicals since he had first seen it presented live downtown several years ago; he had absolutely loved the colors of the costumes, and of course there was also those snug-fitting, wonderfully revealing little tights all the men wore while they pranced around on stage; that was worth the price of admission ANY day. And he thought the name invoked sweet sounding images of edible goodies that were just perfect for their shop. So what was wrong with _that?_ "I don't understand," he pressed the younger man. "What's the matter with the _name_?"

Justin sighed inwardly; he had been afraid of just this scenario. How to explain it tactfully to his friend, then, so he didn't get upset? Emmett could be so sensitive sometimes. "Em, the name is very….cute," he began as he struggled to present the most positive spin on the situation. "And very…..sweet. And I know it's near and dear to your heart. But Brian thinks we may need to refocus our attention in a new direction." _There – that sounded nice and professional-sounding. So why did Emmett still look annoyed?_

"A _new direction? _What's wrong with the direction we're _going_? Our business has been increasing steadily since we started. Why would we want to change the name just when people are starting to get used to it?"

Justin bit his lip in thought; somehow he didn't think telling Emmett that Brian thought it was a pussy name would be the right approach here; Emmett was already beginning the first stage of a possible major queen out here already.

Emmett abruptly frowned as another thought occurred to him. "And just when did you start calling him _Brian?_" he pressed. Somehow Justin had gone from calling the arrogant man _Mr. High and Mighty_ to calling him by his _first name_. _Interesting_.

Justin hadn't even noticed how easily the man's name had rolled off his tongue so casually until Emmett had pointed it out. "Uh….that _is_ his name, Em." _What was the big deal?_

Emmett, however, stared at him knowingly. "Uh, huh," he murmured, the tone full of meaning. There was something slowly changing in that relationship; it was fairly obvious in the way Justin spoke the man's name. The timbre in his voice didn't sound quite so caustic; not quite so disdainful. He filed that in the back of his head; right now, he had more important matters to discuss with his partner. "Okay….back to the subject, Baby. Why does the man want to change my name? It's a perfectly _good_ name!" He placed his hands on his hips; this was an affront to his dignity.

Justin struggled to be diplomatic; when Brian had explained it to him, it made perfect sense. Now that he was actually speaking to his friend face to face, who was staring at him intently, his confidence was waning just a bit. "Uh….he looked over our financial statements when he was doing his research for the ad campaign," he elaborated further, "and he noticed that 75% of our business was coming from the cake design part of it. He just feels like we should highlight that part of it, that's all." Before Em had a chance to object further, he hastened to add, "He said we could keep your part of the name, too, if you want. By the way, he's even designed a new website for us!" Justin told his friend enthusiastically, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice; he hoped that at least THAT part would make his friend happy. That element alone could easily bring them in quite a bit of appreciable business, probably more than the two of them could handle. If it went as well as Brian thought it would, they might even have to wind up hiring some more people to keep up with the increase in volume. Surely he could make Emmett see the benefits, then, couldn't he? He just didn't want to hurt his friend's feelings, though. "He really didn't suggest the change to slight you, Em. He was just looking at it from a business perspective." No matter how lucrative it might be, it was more important to Justin that his friend was in agreement with the change, or he just wouldn't do it. "If you don't want to do it, I'll just tell him to forget it."

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two long-standing friends for several seconds as Em weighed the pros and cons to changing the name of their business; he realized intellectually the reasoning behind the unexpected change in their venture, but his heart still held a certain fondness for the name that had sparked their business collaboration in the first place. And the clientele base they _had_ developed so far knew them by their original name; what would happen if they changed it, no matter HOW beneficial the cocky ad exec thought it would be? He had to appreciate the fact that Justin was willing to keep their name the same, though, no matter how much more money they might be able to bring in if they followed Kinney's advice; it said a lot about his friend's kindness as well as his loyalty, and became the determining factor in his decision. "No, Baby," he finally replied, thinking sentimentally of the name he had picked out so carefully for them several months ago, but knowing what the right course of action must be. "If you're convinced it's the right thing to do, I'll trust you. Just what name did the advertising genius come up with?" he asked curiously.

Justin nodded in relief, realizing that his friend was finally on board with the idea of renaming their shop after all. He slid off the stool, sweeping his hands around the shop and grinning as if he was introducing the business to a new client. "Emmett Honeycutt – Meet _Cakes of Art – Where Edible Art and Imagination Come Together_. What do you think?" he asked his friend with just a little trepidation; it was important to him that his friend be comfortable with the new moniker.

"Mmmm – I'm not surprised that somehow he managed to get the word _come _in there somewhere," he replied, receiving a chuckle from Justin in return. "But I actually think I _like it._ It certainly puts your unique talents up there front and center – I admit, I'm a little jealous, Baby, but as long as it brings in more business, I guess the boys will still follow for the party that needs to go with the cake, right? And that will mean more business – as well as more _phone numbers from the cute ones_ – for ME. So okay, I can handle it. Speaking of _unique talents_, did your _Brian _give you any of the materials to bring back with you? I'm _dying_ to see what he showed you – the _advertising materials_, at least."

"He was still working on them, Em – he said he'd have them ready later." He didn't want to mention that the _later_ part might be tonight while they were supposed to be having dinner.

"Uh, huh." Emmett noticed his friend's reaction to Kinney's first name and his comment about just what the man had showed him; _something_ must have definitely happened between the two of them this afternoon and chances were good it wasn't just all about _business_. "Uh…Sweetie? Just what happened this afternoon between you and Mr. _Sexy as All Get Out_ Kinney? Spill," he prompted his friend as he leaned over curiously in his seat to look at the younger man.

As his stood next to one of the counter stools, Justin looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable in the presence of his long-time friend; even if Emmett hadn't known him very well, it would have been obvious to anyone from his fidgeting, the shuffling feet on the floor and the absentminded twirling of his counter stool from side to side that something was bothering him.

Justin eventually looked up to peer back at his friend and smirked as if he had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. "He invited me to sit on his couch in his office, and he came over to join me," he began tentatively, choosing to switch to a safer subject initially. "Em, you should have _seen_ his office! It was almost as big as our entire shop! And the _furnishings!_ Ultra-modern, sleek and expensive as hell! It was amazing."

_You're stalling here, my friend._ "I'm not surprised," Em commented out loud, remembering he had read how successful the man's agency was; it only made sense that a man such as Kinney in that type of business would want to project a high-profile image. "I'm sure a man like him only goes after the best." He stared over at Justin innocently as he asked, "Is that what he did this afternoon on the couch? _Went after the best?"_

_BINGO_. Emmett didn't need to wait for Justin's response to tell he had hit the nail on the head; he could tell by his friend's instantly reddening face.

Justin covered his face with his hands for a few seconds before he looked up and actually grinned at Emmett in relief. "Am I that _transparent_?" he asked him ruefully, rolling his eyes. "Okay, okay. Yeah, he surprised me by inviting me into his office to meet; I was expecting to meet with him and some of his employees in a conference room or something," he explained. "But we _didn't_; he met with me alone."

Emmett smirked. "Now I wonder why he would want to do _that? _Could it be because he maybe has a certain thing for a cute little cake designer? And now that I think about it, what was that statement you made earlier about _dinner_?" He raised his eyebrows and stared at his friend, who again began to flush at the attention as well as the perceptive guess.

"He asked me to come over later tonight to his loft for dinner," Justin admitted softly. "He said we still had some….._unfinished business_."

Emmett picked up a cupcake lying nearby that he had made earlier in the day for the art party this weekend and took a swipe of the icing on top. As he placed his finger in his mouth to suck off the sweet, sticky icing, he looked up at his friend and asked him innocently, "Just what _kind_ of unfinished business?"

"I think you already _know_ the answer to that question," Justin answered simply; he didn't think there was a need for beating around the bush; they BOTH knew what he had been implying. Did he really have to spell it out for him? "Em, do you think I'm making a mistake going over there?" he asked him pointedly; he valued his friend's opinion and he knew Emmett could be a lot more objective right now about the man than _HE_ could be.

Emmett studied his friend thoughtfully, remembering their conversation earlier about this enigmatic and charismatic man. "I suppose it depends on what you're trying to get _out_ of it," he answered him honestly. "Personally, I still think Mr. Kinney's quite a bit more interested in you than he would like to _admit_; I saw the way he looked at you last night. But remember, the object of every gay boy's dreams has a reputation to uphold. So, Sweetie, don't go over there expecting the greatest love story that was ever told. Let's face it – the man's a sex machine. If you'll be content with probably the greatest fucking sex you've ever _had_, if the man's reputation is any judge, you'll no doubt get it; I mean, the man would be _crazy_ to turn down someone as adorable as you," he stated firmly, as Justin blushed. "But on the other hand, if you're going over for dinner with the idea that you might become something more than just a tasty _dessert_, I think you'll be sadly disappointed, Baby."

Justin bit his lip pensively. Just what WAS he wanting out of this dinner encounter? He hesitated calling it a date, even though to most people it would certainly have that connotation. When it came to _this_ man, however, what most people would think of as a dinner date invitation was more likely just a convenient opportunity for just another fuck. Was he willing to go over there, then, with the probability that that's all it would be? And when did he begin to _care_? The man was still arrogant and cocky as hell; but again, somehow, beneath that arrogant, holier than thou exterior, he saw through the false bravado and saw some degree of vulnerability there. Perhaps it was worth the chance, then. Besides, he was an adult; he could take care of himself – at least that was what he kept saying to himself over and over. Of course, he had never quite met someone like Brian Kinney before, either.

Squaring his shoulders as he reached a decision, he asked his friend, "Em – can you come with me and help me pick out something to wear?"

* * *

_Brian's Loft – 6:45 p.m._

Brian studied his outfit in the bedroom closet's mirror after his shower; he turned around to glance at his ass, making sure every detail of his shirt and jeans were just right. He normally didn't pay too much mind to what he was wearing after work hours, whether he was uncharacteristically staying in or going out to find the next interesting trick; he always looked great no matter WHAT he wore. So why was he paying particular, meticulous attention to what he was wearing _tonight?_ Why, indeed. He wasn't even positive the man was going to show up; what if he changed his mind and didn't even come? he thought, smirking at the unintended double entendre.

Yes, without a doubt he wanted the blond, fiery artist urgently; probably more than he had ever wanted any other man, if he was honest about it. There was just something about this barely-a-man artist that fascinated him, even more than beyond his blue, penetrating eyes, his golden, almost glowing blond hair, and a body that was slender and compact in a way that molded itself perfectly against him while they kissed. The man was so passionate about _everything_ – his art, his designs, his friends, his goals. And he didn't hesitate to stand up to him. For some strange, inexplicable reason, he knew one casual fuck wouldn't nearly satisfy him; he had to have him, body and soul. Now he just had to find out the most effective way to _do_ that and keep his reputation intact.

He examined his attire in the mirror: his tight blue jeans were sitting just above his lean hips, the top button enticingly undone; his casual, button-down black shirt had the cuffs pulled up to his elbows, the tanned flesh peeking out underneath. He had decided on the buttoned shirt over one of his favorite wifebeaters; it was so much easier to remove when the occasion warranted it, which he hoped would be the case tonight.

Finally satisfied that his look was proper for the occasion, he nodded and walked down to the kitchen to find the two shot glasses he needed for their drinks. The Chinese food he had had Cynthia order for him had arrived a little earlier and was presently being kept warm in the oven on a low setting. Light jazz music was playing in the background and he had turned off some of the brighter lights, casting the loft in a more intimate setting. He certainly wasn't going to break out the candles and incense; no fucking way. But that didn't mean he couldn't at least redirect the lighting to a somewhat more desirable level for what he hoped was to come later. As a last-minute touch, he had actually decided to set the table in a casual setting with his everyday, black dinnerware rather than trying to eat on the coffee table by the couch; he figured there would be plenty of time later to move onto a more intimate location for the _more pleasurable _part of their evening.

The buzzer sounded, interrupting him from his concentration; he felt his pulse begin to beat faster as he contemplated his reunion with the object of his intense desire, amazed at the effect this man was having on him. He tamped the feeling down to place a more nonchalant expression on his face as he walked over to the intercom and simply instructed to his visitor, "Come on up."

He felt rather foolish standing by his front door waiting for his dinner companion, but for some reason his feet were planted to the spot. A few seconds later, he heard the familiar whine of the elevator ascending to his floor and the clanging as it came to an eventual stop.

* * *

Justin took a deep breath and let it out as he ascended in the elevator; his pulse was racing in anticipation and his palms were a little sweaty. He quickly rubbed them against his jeans to try and squelch his nervousness. _Get a grip, Justin. You can DO this_. Just what was he going to _do_, though? And more to the point, what was this other man going to _do_? He decided he would take it a minute – hell, even a _second_ at a time if need be; this man made him feel like nothing he had ever felt before – scared, excited, but also exasperated at his impertinence and self-assuredness. The man was certainly unpredictable, but not entirely in an unpleasant way. Dangerous – that was the word that kept reverberating in his head. And everyone knows you have to handle dangerous things very carefully.

He let out another nervous breath just before the elevator finally came to a stop on the fourth floor and he cautiously swung the gate back to emerge from it onto the top level. He noticed Kinney's apartment was located directly across from it. _Well, at least that makes escape convenient – _if he WANTED to escape, that is. AND if was even ABLE to.

He walked tentatively over to the door and stood there for a few seconds to steel himself before he raised his hand to knock decisively. He was somewhat surprised to see the door open almost immediately as the heavy metal material swung back in his face; he still wasn't totally prepared, though, for the sight that befell him. A barefooted Brian Kinney was standing there with a trademark smirk on his face; his hazel, gold-speckled eyes particularly dark and smoldering , one tanned hand braced against the door frame and the other grasping the waist of his jeans, which Justin noticed were tantalizingly unbuttoned at the top. He was dressed in a black, snug-fitting satin shirt that was open at the collar and perfectly highlighted his tanned skin; the shirt cuffs were unbuttoned and pushed up to his elbows casually. His hair was tousled, and still slightly wet from the shower. Justin thought he looked sexy as hell as the man continued to leer unabashedly at him; he finally silently invited him in with a nod and a sweep of his hand as he turned to the side to allow the blond access to his living quarters.

Justin licked his lips a little nervously as he walked into the spacious, impressive loft; his artist's eye took a few seconds to examine his surroundings, noting the modernistic, expensive furniture with the simple, sleek lines and the almost utilitarian look of the open great room before he eventually turned to look at his host expectantly.

As he watched Justin studying his loft, Brian took a few seconds to study _him_. The blond was wearing a pair of snug stone-washed jeans that highlighted all of his delightful features – front and back; he was somewhat disappointed to see that the long-sleeved, deep red tee shirt he was wearing wasn't a button-down. No matter – he still planned on getting it removed in record time. Plain and simple, the man continued to take his breath way; the feeling was simply unlike anything he had ever felt before. He didn't quite understand how someone like this slender, young blond could have achieved it; he simply knew from the way his body was reacting and the way he felt, he just _did_. His greeting came out in an almost breathy tone as he drawled, "So how's it goin', Poppin' Fresh?"

Justin twisted his mouth and grinned in spite of himself at the man's never-ending, creative names for him; he figured the man had probably forgotten his real name by now. "You told me we had some _unfinished business_," he boldly reminded the other man as he stood, hands on hips, facing him expectantly.

Brian smiled seductively; they sure _did_. And he was definitely looking forward to _completing_ their business. "Drink?" he asked the other man smoothly, reaching over to grab one of the shot glasses and quickly pouring out a small amount of Beam; he walked over to present the glass to Justin, deliberately lingering just a little longer than needed as his fingers brushed against the other man's long, slender ones. He silently mused about just how those slim artist's fingers would feel on his bare skin; just the brief brush against his fingers had caused a sharp flare of desire to fire up. Brian motioned over to the couch with his free hand as he took a shot of his own drink. "Have a seat and I'll get the proofs," he told the blond, as he turned to walk over to retrieve his briefcase on the kitchen counter.

Justin quickly recalled their _last_ meeting on a couch together; he decided for the time being, he would avoid that particular resting spot and walked instead to stand by the large, tall, imposing windows overlooking the neighborhood. From Brian's quarters on the top floor, the windows provided an impressive view of the surrounding buildings, as well as a fascinating panorama of the lights presently twinkling from the streetlamps, car headlights, and interior lights that abounded nearby. It was times like these when he cursed himself for not having a sketchpad; he was always anxious to draw new places and hated to miss out on a unique opportunity such as this. Who knew if or when he would ever be _back _here? He never heard the other man quietly approach him until he felt a warm breath wash over the back of his neck when Brian spoke. "Enjoying the view?" he asked him in a throaty murmur that made Justin's skin tingle. _You could definitely say _that, Justin thought ironically; _inside AND outside._ He somehow managed to appear nonplussed as he responded softly, "It's very dynamic," as his artist persona took over.

Brian smiled at the nice, safe answer; _he_ was certainly enjoying the view HE had. It was hard to top the rear view he received as he walked toward the blond with the nicely rounded bubble butt hiding not-so-subtly behind his snug-fitting jeans; he wondered if he had picked out that pair of pants just for his benefit, because he knew what effect it would have on him. If he did, he was very perceptive, because it was doing all sorts of things to his very lively imagination.

"Well, I hate to interrupt your artist's _appreciation_ of my _view_, but I thought we could go over the rest of the advertising ideas for your shop," he told him; Justin noticed as he finally turned to face him that the brunet had a portfolio folder in his left hand while he held his scotch in the other. "You'll have to go over there where the light's better, though," he solemnly instructed the blond, pointing over to the couch. He could see Brian's laptop open and sitting on the coffee table directly in front of the couch, even though he remembered seeing a small, sleek metal desk over in the corner that the man clearly used for his research. _How convenient._

Justin rolled his eyes at Brian's not-so-subtle strategy move as Brian simply smirked at him. "I've got your fee, too," Brian added, somehow thinking that would make the suggestion more palatable. Justin had to grudgingly it – he certainly could use the money, and since Brian was charged a rate at double his fee, he and Emmett stood to make an extra $500 profit on his superhero cake.

Brian watched smugly as the blond finally moved slowly over toward the couch and sat down. _Now we're finally getting somewhere. _He stood there as Justin placed his drink on a nearby coaster and glanced up at him expectantly, his hands in his lap. Brian almost had to laugh at the prim and proper picture Justin currently resembled; he was locked up almost as tight as a virgin on their wedding night. If HE had anything to say about that, that was going to change very quickly.

Justin watched in nervous fascination as the brunet ever so slowly sauntered over to him like an elegant panther about to strike; he wouldn't have been able to avert his eyes from the sight even if he had tried – the damn man was like some type of sensuous magnet you couldn't push away from. Brian smiled openly now as he became aware of Justin's reaction to him – he had been the object of many a man's desire – much too many to count by now – so he knew the signs when he saw them, and this little blond spitfire _wanted_ him; despite the man's posture with his hands tightly banded together in his lap and his legs pushed together on the couch, his large, expressive blue eyes were a dead giveaway. _Oh, yeah….it was time for him to start tasting the SWEET_ _life._

Full of confidence now, he placed his drink down on the coffee table and sat down, turning his body toward the other man's. He opened up the dark burgundy-colored folder with the _Kinnetik_ logo on the front, and pulled out several sheets, all business for the next few minutes. "I took the liberty of printing out copies of all of the pages that will be included in the new website so you can show your nelly queen friend; my techs will have the site up and running by the end of next week. I've also had 500 new business cards printed up with the new name and logo, your e-mail address, and both of your names listed as co-owners. I would suggest that as your business increases, you may want to consider either investing in separate phone numbers for the cake and catering parts of the business, but you could also use a voicemail system to distinguish between incoming inquiries. I also had the art department design business flyers to advertise the new name at the upcoming Bridal Expo being held in Pittsburgh next month; I would suggest you rent a booth for the event, because my research indicates that 85% of your cake design business should come from weddings, and _Honeycakes _himself should be aiming for 60% of his party planning business to come from weddings as well. Past attendance figures at the Expo indicate that as much as 75% of all upcoming brides in Pittsburgh attend this event, so if you want to increase your business, it's imperative you make your presence known there. I can have my art department help you construct a professional-looking portfolio book that will showcase your best cake designs; that way if a bride likes what she sees, all she has to do is order a cake by the selection number. It will correspond with the same selection number on the website to make it easier to remember. Have you been taking photos of the cakes you've designed? If so, I'll need copies of them to help construct the portfolio book, or I suppose you can draw pictures of them if you don't have actual photographs." Brian finally paused to take a breath; when he was excited about his advertising ideas, he always found it hard to control his enthusiasm while he _ran with the ball_. Despite his intention of fucking this man senseless before the night was over, he tone was professional as he described the best advertising strategy for his client, no matter _how_ much he wanted _this_ particular client. And besides, the sooner he explained his advertising campaign and got that out of the way, the sooner he could get on to much more _pleasurable_ activities. "Any questions, Doughboy?" he asked, noticing Justin had been uncharacteristically quiet during his presentation, even though he appeared to be listening carefully to everything he had said.

As Brian launched his ideas at him, Justin had been stunned speechless; the brunet continued to speak animatedly about his ideas, almost like a powerful tidal wave rushing at him. He had to admit he was greatly impressed by the man's thoroughness and creativity; he had thought of so many angles that Justin, thinking of himself as more of an artist than a businessman, would never have considered. Hell, he should have been paying _him_ for this, not the other way around. He thought, however, it was probably best not to tell HIM that – the man was already cocky enough as it was. He finally spoke up, "Uh….no. I think you've thought of pretty much everything. But then – that's your job, isn't it?" he asserted, his eyebrows rising in a sort of challenge. "I design the fantastic cakes; _you_ design the advertising to _sell_ the fantastic cakes. Plus pay my fee _FOR_ the cake, of course," he added, holding out his palm in expectation.

Brian smirked; _little fucker._ _Well, two can play that game, little boy._ He reached into his jeans pocket to remove the check he had previously written out for the fee. Smiling mysteriously, he began to extend the slip of paper out toward the pale, slender one as if to hand it to him.

"Oh!" What Justin got instead, however, was a handful of _Kinney_ as his body was roughly pulled against the lean, hard muscled flesh of the other man. Brian instantly wrapped his arm around the blond's waist possessively and pulled him down on top of him lengthwise on the couch as his hand began to roam liberally over the younger man's back and down to his luscious ass to give each delectable globe a squeeze. He drawled huskily, "You should have told me you wanted to skip right to the _dessert_ first, Doughboy." He heard Justin's gasp of rapid breath as their eyes locked together; their lips were centimeters apart and he could actually feel the blond's breath coming out in quick pants on his face – it simply felt fucking _fantastic _lying there with an armful of blond heaven. The blue eyes were so large and round in an expression of what? - lust, excitement and nervousness? What _else_ would a man feel in his arms? _Too easy_. For a second he had hoped the man would put up more of a fight – it made the eventual conquest that much more _exciting_. But no matter – the boy was so damn sexy, he didn't care _how_ he took him – he just knew he had to HAVE him. Any additional thoughts quickly went out the window as he reached one hand around to pull the tender neck down and smash their lips together, relishing in the same, intense feeling he had felt last night at Babylon, only it felt even better tonight; maybe it was due to the throaty moans emanating from the blond's lips currently occupied with his own probing mouth and the man's quickly-hardening cock which was matching his own; God, this creature molded against him felt almost too indescribably good. Better than anyone had ever made him feel. It was _exquisite_.

Justin should have seen that one coming; how could he have been so _naïve_? This man never missed an opportunity to take advantage of a chance to devour him; look what he had started last night at Babylon. God, his body wanted this man _so fucking much_; but the seeds of doubt were starting to germinate in his head. Is that all he would be to this man if he continued to allow him to plunder away – just another fuck to brag about tomorrow morning at work or tomorrow night at his club? Was this man even capable of anything more substantial other than a mission to conquer the next intriguing man that entered his personal space? Well, he wasn't _anyone's_ one night stand, no matter how incredibly sexy Kinney was; he wanted _more_ than that. It was time to find out if that was what this man wanted, too.

With incredible reluctance and maybe just a pinch of stupidity, then, Justin somehow found the incredible fortitude to push away from the other man's kisses; using Brian's body as a sort of anchor, he firmly propelled himself upward with his hands on the man's chest and managed somehow to loosen the other man's hold on him. Brian looked shocked at the sudden loss of the warm, soft body torn away from his; Justin had to stifle a slight giggle at the man's look of stunned disbelief that someone had actually turned down the great honor of being Brian Kinney's latest fuck. "Actually, _Mr. Kinney_," he said breathlessly, smoothing his shirt back down after it had ridden up to expose his midriff area, "I would rather start with _dinner_ first. Are you going to join me?" he asked innocently; deftly snatching the check out of the startled man's hand, he smiled as he stood up and began to walk over to the dining table.

Brian continued to lay there on his back, incredulous, his hand hanging over the side of the couch as he watched the blond-haired man who had just been firmly cradled in his arms walk over to the dining room table as if nothing had just happened and sit down, looking like he was waiting for the butler to appear with the first course of their gourmet meal. In fact, the blond's voice had been amazingly calm considering his own breathing was coming out in an erratic and ragged cadence as his body craved something that was apparently going to pass unfulfilled, at least for now. _What the fuck?_ _This isn't over, Doughboy. You may have just won the initial battle but you are NOT going to win the war_.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it out softly, he slowly rose from the couch to sit up and get his bearings a little better before replying in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone of voice, "I was just about to suggest that. I think the dessert needs to _simmer_ just a little longer, anyway."

Justin grinned to himself as he received a slight glare from the other man; he watched as the brunet ambled over to his oven to retrieve their dinner that had all but been forgotten in the heat of passion. _Getting a little frustrated, Mr. Kinney?_ _Well, you're not the only one, believe me. But let's see just how much patience you have, shall we? _"So what's for dinner?" he asked innocently.

Brian had to bite back the reply regarding what he _really _wanted to have for dinner as he informed him, "I wasn't sure what type of food you would like, so I got a variety." He lifted a serving tray down from a top cabinet and emptied several white boxes of the takeout into serving bowls. As he carried them over to the table and set them down, he advised his guest, "There's Kung Pao Chicken, Beef with broccoli and pea pods, Crab Rangoon, vegetable egg rolls, and Moo Shu Pork."

Justin raised his eyebrows at the variety; there was enough food there to serve the entire Chinese _army_. "My God, Brian – there's no way I can eat all _that_!" he exclaimed; noticing the other man was staring at him silently. "What?" he asked him finally, as he noticed the brunet smirking before he took a seat catty-corner across from him.

"I believe that's the first time I've heard you use my first name," he marveled at him. "Why, I'm _honored,_ _MR. TAYLOR_." He bowed his head in mock homage to his dinner guest, who rolled his eyes at the observation.

"Well, don't get a big head over it," Justin retorted; he groaned inwardly at the statement because he had a good idea what was coming next; his dinner guest did not disappoint him.

"I get plenty of that already," he bragged, his lips curling under in amusement at the other man's irritated expression. "Here – try the Kung Pao Chicken," he suggested, scooping up some of the food and placing a hefty amount of it onto the other man's plate.

Justin looked at him warily before glancing around for his silverware. "Where's my fork?" he asked.

Brian twisted his mouth playfully. "What's the matter, Doughboy? Can't use the proper utensils for Chinese food?" He reached under the other man's plate for a pair of wooden chopsticks that had been partially hidden and placed them on the side of Justin's plate.

Justin looked at the heaping pile of diced chicken chunks, cooked vegetables, and peanuts lying on his plate and then glanced back at Brian, who seemed to be enjoying himself enormously for some reason. He wasn't about to tell the man that he had never used chopsticks before in his _life_. How hard could it be, anyway? At least there wasn't any rice to pick up – now _that_ would be nearly impossible. He felt the other man's stare fixed on him as he gingerly picked up the two matching sticks and held them hesitantly in his hand. _How in the hell does this work_? he wondered to his chagrin.

Brian continued to watch his dinner companion; it was obvious from the expression on his face that the man had no fucking clue how to use chopsticks, but he was having too much fun watching the blond trying to disguise that fact. He watched, fascinated, as Justin examined the utensils as he held them in his hand and twisted them around to try and obtain a good grip on them. The blue eyes stared at them diligently in concentration as he worked them first one way, and then another until he seemed satisfied that he had them held in the proper angle. He looked up at Brian smugly before he scissored the two sticks together and reached down to successfully pick up a chunk of chicken and plop it in his mouth as he smiled at his achievement. He frowned briefly as he noticed Brian smiling broadly back at him in return before his facial expression changed from one of triumph to one of revelation.

His moment of gloating was extremely short lived, as the food's extremely spicy ingredients quickly took effect. Brian watched with great enjoyment as Justin began to wave his hand in front of his face as if he could somehow cool the extremely hot peppers and spices quickly inflaming the inside of his mouth and he began to breath out rapidly in a vain attempt to diminish the almost painful heat that was released by a single bite of the chicken dish.

To Justin's great annoyance, Brian actually laughed out loud at his discomfort as Justin looked around frantically for some water; he finally resorted to dashing over to the kitchen faucet and running his hands under the flowing water to scoop some up and lap at it like a thirsty kitten. It was a couple of minutes of furiously gulping down the cold water before he could regain his voice enough to respond to his tormentor. "You _asshole!_" he said furiously. "You KNEW that food was spicy, didn't you, and you didn't warn me!" He stood near the sink with his hands on his hips in extreme aggravation; this man was _unbelievable_. In some ways, he was just like a big kid that apparently enjoyed pulling pranks on unsuspecting victims. Was there no end to this man's arrogance?

Brian chuckled; the blond was simply _adorable_ as he stood there glaring at him and sulking at his stunt. No matter _how_ hot the Kung Pao Chicken was, it couldn't be nearly as _hot_ as what HE was looking at right now; he watched, captivated, as the man's eyes flashed with his passionate indignation and his entire body stood there rigidly in annoyance.

He noticed the blond's eyes widening in trepidation as he slowly approached him, not quite able to disguise his amusement. His own eyes never left the other man's as he neared his prey; before his target could get away, he placed both of his hands to either side of him and leaned in closely.

Justin would have backed up from the cocky man in an attempt to escape, but to his consternation he found himself once again pressed up against a hard object – the marble sink. He couldn't help the surprised gasp that escaped, either, as he felt another _hard_ object pushing against his groin when the brunet leaned over him, his face mere inches from his own, and said in a sexy whisper, "I see something even _more_ spicier than the food." Blue eyes locked in silent combat with hazel ones for a few seconds before he heard the brunet growl at him unintelligibly and then press him back against the sink to swoop in for the kill.

Justin's body instantly went into overdrive and his heart began pounding erratically as the man's lips once again locked onto his own; Brian expertly angled his head to deepen the kiss as his tongue snaked out to beckon entrance. Justin's brain desperately tried to resist for a brief moment before he knew he was lost and his lips parted in response. Despite their intimate dance becoming more familiar each time, the incredible high he felt from it never seemed to lessen; in fact, it was just the opposite – this man made him feel emotions he had never felt before. If only he could be convinced the brunet was interested in more than a fleeting episode of glorious sex with him.

Brian could still taste the hot, peppery remnant of the chicken on the man's tongue and lips as he ravaged the luscious, full mouth; he began to twist and grind his lower body into the other man's in a out-and-out frontal assault as his senses reeled from the incredible, exquisite feeling of the lithe, slender body pressed urgently against his own. A moan of pleasure surprisingly escaped unbidden from his own mouth as he felt Justin's hands finally come up to wrap themselves around his back in an attempt to stay upright; he smiled triumphantly against the blond's lips as he noticed the slender hands beginning to rub tantalizing circles across his back in an almost unknowing caress. _Oh, God – this man is SO delicious._

Justin's head was spinning from the incredible sensory attack his body was undergoing. His reserve was faltering by the second; in a matter of minutes, it would be gone completely. His head was warring with his body; it was like one of those horrible "B" movies where there were two miniature versions of himself, each one invisibly sitting on his shoulder – a _good _Justin telling him he needed to resist, that this man was only interested in adding him to his list of vanquished conquests and once he had him, he would be dropped like a forgotten childhood toy, and a _bad_ Justin telling him that sex with this man would be much too fucking incredible to pass up and he would be an absolute _idiot_ to turn him down. It definitely wasn't helping that while his head was spinning from the two dueling philosophies, Brian was dueling for supremacy himself; just when he thought he could come up for breath because the man had finally stopped ravaging his mouth, he felt the brunet's lips possessively nuzzling his neck. Justin noticed, also, that somehow the brunet's hands had moved from the counter to his back and were roaming _everywhere_ just like a fucking octopus – his back, his ass, his hips, anywhere the long, lean, talented hands could reach. And the man continued his onslaught on his cock by twisting and grinding his body into his at just the right angle to make him hard and horny as hell.

He groaned loudly as he felt the man's hot breath tickling his ear and he heard him growl out sexily, "You're making me so _hard_ – I'm have to _taste _every inch of you. I'm going to fuck you so hard – _all_…._night_…._long_." Brian expertly groped the mounds of his ass, his hands squeezing tightly as he purred, "You know you fucking _want_ it; you HAVE _to have it_. I'm your sickness - you can't _resist _me," he declared arrogantly.

The overconfident tone of the man's voice finally registered in Justin's mind as the "Good Justin" finally triumphed over his counterpart. _I CAN'T resist him? What does he think I am – some mindless, spineless glob of putty that melts under the great Brian Kinney sex appeal? Well, guess again, Mr. Cocky._

"Is that SO?" Justin managed to retort, even though it came out as a breathy protest; he was still trying to inject air back into his lungs after the sensory attack he had been experiencing for the last several minutes. Just what had he expected coming over to this man's loft for dinner? A nice, stimulating conversation and then a polite, chaste kiss at the door when they said good night? Maybe he WAS a mindless, spineless glob of putty. But at least he still had a little common sense left, and his common sense was telling him this relentless, elegant cat was just toying with his latest mouse. _Well, go find your catnip somewhere else, Mr. Kinney._

He pushed back now so firmly that he startled the other man, which enabled him to break free from their embrace. "What the fuck?" he heard the other man cry out breathily. Justin felt a certain degree of satisfaction realizing that the brunet wasn't unaffected by their groping, either; too bad it was only a case of unfulfilled lust on the other man's part.

"Thank you for the interesting evening," he coolly told the other man as he tried to regain normal breathing; his body was crying out for release that he wasn't going to get tonight. "AND for your business. I hope you got your money's worth," he curtly added as he turned to head for the door.

Brian stood there for a few seconds in shock; did this man just turn him _down?_ NO ONE ever turned him down before, no matter if he was in the back room at Babylon, at work in the bathroom for a quick fuck, or out at an exclusive restaurant. What was going on here? And more importantly, why was it affecting him so much? Was it a case of his reputation remaining intact, his stubborn pride or something _else_? The only thing he knew for sure at the moment was that he couldn't let this man leave just yet. "Justin…wait," he found himself calling out softly.

But it was too late for Justin to hear him; he had already roughly slid the door back and was gone in a heartbeat like a gush of wind. Brian hurried over to the imposing, floor-to-ceiling windows of his loft, just in time to see his dinner companion quickly being enveloped into the moonless night.


	9. Chapter 9: Drama at the Diner

Next Day - Lunchtime – It's a Wrap Deli Shop

"Hey, Cutie! I'll have the turkey pastrami wrap and your phone number to go!"

Justin twisted his body free of yet another sleazy admirer who had somehow latched onto his apron ties as he walked by and breathed out a small huff of disgust. If he had one more guy snicker at his own pathetic come-on line as he was trying to hit on him at the same time, he was going to puke. "Sorry, we're fresh out of _both_," he muttered as he walked back to stand by the counter. "Rhonda – _help!_" he plaintively said to a petite brunette girl standing behind the counter as he placed his hands on top of a nearby stool and stared at her.

Rhonda smirked and rolled her eyes. "_Another _one?" she asked in mock envy as Justin simply shrugged. "Maybe you're in the wrong line of business, Justin. I think you'd make more money just walking around the streets rather than waiting around for your tips. Now if this was strictly a _gay_ deli, you'd be cleaning up _big time_," she added, grinning.

Justin grimaced. "Let's not encourage any more of these losers to come in, okay? The sleaze bags we get already are too much to avoid as it _is_." He looked around to observe several eyes staring at him hungrily; the only trouble was all of the lust-filled eyes either belonged to men who appeared to be about 30 years older than him, or were wearing bloated beer bellies, toupees, or _both_; the deli was not exactly a magnet for hot guys, apparently. Of course, after the encounter he had had last night with one hot guy in particular, he was realizing that most of the other guys wouldn't be able to hold a candle next to Brian Kinney anyway; what a shame the guy didn't have a conscience to go with his _ego_.

"Justin? Hello…..Are you _there_?" Justin turned to Rhonda sheepishly, caught dead to rights thinking again about the great, unattainable Stud of the Gay World. "Sorry," he told her, a little embarrassed at being caught daydreaming. "What did you _say?"_

Rhonda shook her head in amusement. "I said…..if I take care of Mr. _Leech_ over there, will you take the food that's due to be ready any minute over to Table 9? They looked pretty safe to me – two women and a kid."

Justin nodded his head gratefully. "No problem – sounds like _more_ than a fair trade to me," he told her, as she turned to walk over to the table of Justin's latest unsuccessful suitor. As Justin left to go pick up her order, Rhonda took a few seconds to study him. _Poor guy_, she thought – _always seems to be hit on by the most obnoxious patrons in the deli_. She wondered idly how someone so talented, kind and just plain adorable couldn't find a decent guy to hook up with. Glancing around at his picks in the deli, however, she understood – these guys were simply nothing but a bunch of losers. She gave Justin a slight smile as she left to take care of the latest obnoxious member of his fan club, ruing the fact that her friend couldn't have been interested in girls instead. If he _had been_, she'd have been at the top of the waiting list. Sighing, she turned back to the man's table to help her friend in the only way she could.

Justin heard the bell chiming by the kitchen pass-through, signaling that Rhonda's order was up; walking over to pick up the three plates deftly in both hands, he proceeded to walk over to her assigned table to take care of her diners. He didn't pay any mind as to who the people were until he was startled to hear his name being called as he approached the booth in question.

"Justin! Oh, my God! I didn't know you _worked_ here!" Lindsey stood up with great delight to give her friend a kiss on the cheek as he placed their plates down on the table to reciprocate. "Hey, Lindsey," he greeted the blonde. It hadn't been difficult for the two of them to become fast friends; from the moment they had met, Lindsay and Justin had bonded easily over their mutual love of art.

"You remember my partner, Mel," she said, as Justin nodded and smiled over at the dark-haired attorney, who greeted him in return. She wasn't able to actually say anything out loud, however, due to a rather boisterous, sudden interruption that suddenly burst forth from the third member of their dining party who was sitting next to Lindsey.

"Jus'n!" Gus screamed out in glee, his face aglow with pleasure, as he stood up on the booth and leaned over to accept Justin's hug of affection. "Hey, Buddy!" Justin smiled broadly at the brunet boy and briefly ruffled the top of the soft, dark hair; he now realized this boy was the spitting image of a miniature Brian Kinney, right down to the dark hair, hazel eyes, and long, lanky frame; there was no doubt where _this_ boy had gotten his attractive genes from. He only hoped the poor kid didn't wind up being so damn arrogant as well.

"Look what I got! _Dino_!" Gus declared, pointing excitedly at something on the seat.

"Dino?" Justin repeated, as he saw Gus reach under the booth's table and come up with the ever-present and much-dueled over Dimetrodon. "Ah," he answered in comprehension, smiling; this must be Gus' name for his favorite toy. "I certainly remember THAT well," he said, looking over at Mel and Lindsey in a mutual nod of understanding. He had told them previously how upset Brian had been over losing his fight over the much-ballyhooed toy. It seemed that Gus still was fascinated over the artist's example for his cake. "That's a good name for him," Justin told the little boy, who beamed at the compliment as he waved the dinosaur around in the air and make growling noises.

"He's become fascinated lately with the _Flintstones_," Lindsey explained. "He thinks his Dino and their Dino look alike, except for the color that is. Hence the name," she said, holding onto her son by his arm so he didn't fall off the vinyl seat of the booth. "Gus, Honey, why don't you have a seat and eat your chicken fingers before they get cold, okay? Let's put Dino up on the table so he can see what's going on."

"Okay, Mommy," Gus answered, abruptly plopping himself back down on his booster chair on top of the booth's seat and placing Dino next to his plate. "Now you be _good_, Dino," he scolded his companion in a serious tone of voice. Justin watched with great amusement as the little boy pulled an extra white paper napkin from the nearby chrome holder and wrapped it loosely around the toy's neck in preparation for eating.

"Justin?" He turned as he heard Rhonda calling his name and motioning for him to come over to the counter. "Oh….I have to go. Looks like one of my other orders is up," he informed them, raising his index finger up in the air to his friend to ask her one more minute. "You all have everything you need? Anything else to drink?" he asked them courteously.

Lindsey smiled at him. "We're fine for now – thanks. But when you get a minute, come back over, okay? I'd like to find out how you've been doing."

Justin nodded. "I'll try to take my break in a little while," he answered, as he turned to walk back to the counter. "Let me know if you need anything else. Good to see you again, Mel," he told the attorney.

"You, too, Sweetie," she told the young man, smiling at him fondly.

Gus raised a French fry drenched with ketchup in one chubby hand. "Bye, Jus!" he called out, waving the food briefly in the air before a small glop hit Mel in the face and she had to hurriedly lower her son's arm gently to his plate for their safety.

The two women shared a laugh over their son's antics before Lindsey stole a quick glance over at their blond friend. She watched as Justin smiled at one of the waitresses as he helped her carry a large order over to one of the other nearby booths. "I still have a feeling about this one," Lindsey murmured, her eyes following the slender body gracefully dodging chairs jutting out into the aisle as he placed the plates down in front of the booth's occupants.

Mel frowned as she followed Lindsey's gaze. "What _kind _of feeling?" she asked her partner curiously.

"I think this one could give _Brian_ a run for his money," she asserted firmly. The mutual looks of desire and interest these two had shared at Michael's birthday party the other night at Babylon had not escaped her, and she was confident that Justin could more than stand up to her somewhat intimidating, long-time friend. "I think they would be a good match," she clarified.

"Are you fu….," Mel began, hastily changing her initial question as she realized Gus was listening to her intently. "Are you _kidding_ me, Lindsey? Brian would eat the poor man _alive_. I LIKE Justin – you don't really want to do that to him, do you?"

Lindsey shook her head and grinned. "I really don't think he _would_," she observed softly. "I saw the way Justin stood up to him at the shop, _and_ at the club. I don't think you're giving Justin enough _credit_. I think beneath that kind, gentle exterior lies a man who can more than stand up for himself and give it back just as good as he gets, if he thinks he's being taken too lightly."

Mel stared over at the blonde artist. "Maybe," she replied somewhat skeptically. "But still….Justin deserves better than Brian. Brian's only concerned with one thing – who his next conquest is going to be. And as soon as Justin succumbs, he'll be dumped alongside the side of the road just everyone _else_ has been," she growled. "I'd stay out of it. If Justin really _can_ take care of himself, you won't need to interfere, anyway," she told her partner sensibly.

Lindsey looked over at their son, who was happily attempting to feed a small bite of his chicken finger to Dino. "I know how you feel about Brian, Mel," she said softly, continuing to stare at the man's lookalike son. "But you're _wrong_. He talks a good talk, and walks a good walk, but he's not as uncaring and invincible as he makes himself out to be. You know what kind of parents he had," she reminded her partner, who pursed her lips together in an unsuccessful attempt to hide her disdain for the man. "It's no wonder after the childhood HE had that he would turn out the way he did. But he's got feelings – he's not made out of stone, no matter what you think and what he tries to make everyone _else_ think." She stared off into space for a few seconds before whispering, "I'd just like him to find someone to make him happy, that's all."

Mel snorted. "You're shooting for the moon, Lindsey. The man doesn't _know_ how to have a decent relationship, whether it's his fault ultimately or not. I mean, look at his _lifestyle_, for God's sake! And he only sees Gus when it's convenient for _him_," she growled.

"Now that's not fair," Lindsey replied curtly. "He's gotten better lately over seeing his son much more than he used to. And you've seen the way he is with him – he _does_ love him," she whispered in his defense, trying fervently to not alert their son as to what they were discussing in fear that it would upset him. Gus clearly idolized his father, despite their somewhat erratic time spent together, and she didn't want to disrupt that. "You've seen the way he treats him and looks at him when they're _together_, Mel – come on," she implored.

Mel let out a loud sigh in partial defeat. "Okay. Maybe. But he STILL has a long way to go in _my _book," she retorted, shaking her head as she glanced over at the mirror image of the man.

* * *

"Thank God!" Rhonda cried, giving her co-worker a quick hug of gratitude. "I just got a group of _ten_ over in the private banquet room. Can you _please _help me take down their orders and get their drinks out to them?" she begged. She rolled her eyes upward. "And this is just the _START_ of the lunch hour," she groaned. "God help me – my feet are _already KILLING _me."

Justin smirked. "I guess that's the price you women pay for being _fashionable_," he teased, glancing down at her heeled, open-toed shoes. "Give me a worn-in pair of sneakers _any day_." He grinned sympathetically. "Don't worry, oh fashion icon – I'll help you," he assured her, as Rhonda smiled at him thankfully.

"You're a _doll_, Justin!" she exclaimed sincerely. Justin started to follow her into the banquet before she stopped abruptly and pirouetted around to face him. "Are you _sure_ you're gay?" she asked him, her green eyes wide with mischief.

Justin grinned as he gently grasped her arm and leaned in to whisper, "I'm sure."

Rhonda melodramatically feigned a look of vast disappointment before she replied, "I was _afraid _of that. When they say the good ones are always taken, I don't think they were thinking of it in _that_ way, though."

Justin smiled as he released her arm to walk with her into the other room. "Probably not."

* * *

Finally agreeing to disagree, mainly for the sake of their impressionable son, Lindsey and Mel finished the rest of their meal in companionable silence. As Gus finished up the rest of his French fries and chicken fingers, he started fidgeting in his chair and again stood up to look around curiously at the rest of the deli.

"Where's Jus'n?" he asked, his head turning from side to side in an intense search for his favorite new friend. "I want him to paint me again."

Lindsey smiled at her son's zest for life; his innocent joy and curiosity was very contagious. She even noticed Mel smiling, also, at his question. "He's working, Sweetie," Mel told him. "I don't think he brought his paint with him today, Honey."

The small, rosy lips curled under in a little pout of disappointment. "Can he come over to play with me, Mommy?" he asked Lindsey. "Can he bring his paint?" He remained on his feet, anxiously searching for his friend who was still working in the other room.

Mel smiled fondly at their son. "We'll have to see, Baby," she cooed tenderly. "He's very busy with school and work." She reached over the booth to firmly but gently grab her son's arm to make sure he didn't fall off his booster chair, which was teetering slightly. "Lindsey, you'd better have him sit down before he falls," she cautioned her mate urgently.

Lindsey nodded in agreement, placing her own hand on Gus's lower arm to steady him and try to get him to sit as Mel released her own hold; but as soon as she began to speak to their son to try and convince him to sit, she was startled and almost lost her hold on him as his whole body shook with excitement and his face took on an animated, excited glow at the appearance of someone else he knew. "Daddy!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Hey, Sonny Boy!" Brian greeted his son with a broad smile, walking over to the women's booth to quickly scoop his son up into his arms and give him a kiss on the cheek. Gus' soft arms wound themselves around his father's neck as he gave the man a tight hug. "Did you come to _eat_ with me, Daddy?" he asked the brunet, as he pulled back enough to look his father in the eyes.

Brian's eyes twinkled as he noticed a small smear of ketchup on the little boy's cheek. "It looks like you've _already_ eaten, Little Man," he told his son fondly, reaching down to gently wipe the red, gooey liquid off the soft skin. "Mmmm," he replied, as he sucked the ketchup off his finger and into his mouth. "You taste good enough to _eat!"_ he smiled as he kidded the giggling boy.

"What are you _doing here_, Brian?" Mel asked him suspiciously; his surprising appearance at the deli had to be more than just an eerie coincidence.

"I was hungry, I needed to discuss when to pick up Sonny Boy this weekend, and your office told me where to find you," he told her bluntly, as he smiled over at his son, who was currently playing with his dad's hair falling haphazardly over his bangs.

Lindsey gave Mel an "_I TOLD you so" _look as she gazed at the tender scene being played out by father and son; this Brian was totally unlike the cocky mask of bravado he usually wore when he was around everyone else. _This _was the man Brian _could_ be, if he only had the right man to bring it out in him, she decided silently. And she thought she knew just the man for the job; in fact, he was just returning from the deli's banquet room as she mulled it over. Brian hadn't noticed the blond just yet, however; his back was to the other room and he was too busy making small talk with his son, who was animatedly describing to his father the highlights of his recent birthday party, which Gus had enjoyed immensely.

* * *

"Thanks, Justin – you're a real _lifesaver_," Rhonda exclaimed gratefully; thanks to her friend's help, she was finally able to take a very quick break and get off her feet. She plopped into the nearest counter stool with a resounding "Ah."

Justin grinned at her theatrics; Rhonda groaned, however, as she saw one of table numbers light up above the kitchen pass through, signifying one of her orders needed to be delivered. The look of ecstasy on her face at the moment from being to finally relax, even minutely, wasn't lost on her friend, who patted her on the shoulder briefly and said, "I'll take care of it, Cleopatra. You just recline on your barge a little longer and rest your feet." He winked at her as he turned to retrieve the prepared food.

He made a mental note of the table number on the accompanying order pad as he picked up the plate and turned to deliver the meal to Table #4. His pace faltered, however, as he noticed apprehensively that the steak fajita wrap and onion rings on the plate unfortunately belonged to the obnoxious suitor from earlier that Rhonda had helped him with. He groaned inwardly at his ironic misfortune before he steeled himself and walked quietly over to the man's table.

The lone diner sitting at the booth leered hungrily at him as he carefully placed the hot food down in front of the man – a stocky, burly brunet with muscular, hairy, tattooed arms bulging out of a navy blue, faded tee shirt – before he politely asked him softly, "Will there be anything else?" He didn't dare look the man in the eyes for fear it might somehow encourage him further; that was the _last _thing he wanted to do at the moment. When he thankfully didn't get a reply in return, however, he silently sighed in relief as he nodded and turned to go. He wasn't fast enough, however, to elude the other man's unexpectedly quick reflexes as he reached out to grab onto Justin's apron again. "Yeah," he growled in a deep voice. "You," he snarled in what he thought sounded like a sexy tone of voice; to Justin, it sounded more like a washed-up loser high on too many steroids. He could smell the stench of too much alcohol on the man's breath as he boldly stood up and snaked his arms around the blond's slender waist to lock both burly arms around him in a frightening vice grip of possession.

"Let me _go_, you asshole!" Justin snarled at the other man, who merely laughed in his ear; the smell of liquor and the hot breath pouring onto his face was enough to make Justin's skin crawl as he shivered in fear and found it hard to breath in the man's excessive grasp of him. The situation was quickly becoming serious as Justin realized there was no way he was going to be able to break free from this man's stronghold on him unless he took drastic action. He mind raced with his options, none of which seemed too promising at the moment. He looked over helplessly at Rhonda, whose own face was reflecting his own fear as she realized that she, too, was powerless to help her friend.

The disconcerting scene being played out between the two men was being virtually ignored in the bustling confines of the deli by the rest of the diners, who were paying more attention either to their food or their dining companions; the blond's look of distress and fear, however, did not go unnoticed by one particular man, who had instantly honed in on the scene taking place from the moment he had noticed Lindsey's shocked expression and followed her line of vision to see a picture that made his blood boil.

"I'll be right back, Sonny Boy," he told his son, as he gently disengaged his neck from around the boy's arms and placed him tenderly in Lindsey's arms; the blond-haired woman immediately held onto their son in a hug, making sure the boy's back was to the scene being played out across the room. She knew how fond Gus was of Justin and didn't want him upset by the fear that someone might be hurting him. Truth be told, _she_ was ALREADY afraid of that herself; if something wasn't done soon, her friend could very well get hurt. She toyed with the idea of picking up her cell phone to call 911 for assistance, but she soon found out that was not going to be needed.

"I said get the _FUCK OFF_!" Justin growled loudly, as he began to struggle in the other man's powerful arms. His wriggling in the other man's grasp, however, only seemed to excite the man further, who growled in his ear, "So you like it _rough_, huh? Good – I DO, too," he snickered, before he leaned in to lick the side of Justin's neck as the blond shivered in disgust. He tried frantically to kick the other man but it was no use – his grip on him was just too strong.

Brian was just about to reach the other man to detach his tentacles from Justin when he saw the man abruptly release his hold on the blond and double over in pain, holding his hand over his crotch from the jab in the balls that Justin managed to produce when he was finally able to pull one of his arms free from the other man's embrace. "You _fucker!"_ the man snarled, as he slowly rose up to his full height, his face contorted in rage and pain. "You're going to _PAY_ for that, little boy!" he threatened, as Justin began to back away from the red-faced would-be suitor.

Justin's eyes flashed with anger as he continued to slowly back up from the other man, whose dark-hued face was flushed with determination as well as fury at being rebuffed so painfully. As the blond found himself pushed up against a nearby wall with nowhere else to go, he pressed his hands against the hard surface, preparing to kick the living shit of the other man if need be. The thought of lying soon in a puddle of blood on the floor – or worse – came unbidden to his mind as he prepared to defend himself alone as best he could. Instead, he heard a familiar voice behind the large man growling loudly, "What part of _fuck off_ did you NOT understand?" Thinking he must be imaging things, his eyes widened as he saw the man turn around in irritation as an extremely angry Brian Kinney reared back and landed a violent punch to the man's nose; the burly bully promptly staggered and fell to the floor in a painful heap, grasping his nose to try and staunch the blood now flowing freely from his nostrils.

"You've got _five seconds_ to get out before I stomp you into a fucking pulp!" Brian shouted at the man now; he reached down to roughly help pull the man to his feet and shoved him toward the door. "Now you've got _FOUR _seconds," he warned. The man stood there for a couple more seconds shooting daggers of hate at the brunet and deciding whether to challenge his attacker further before he finally decided it would be best to fight for another day and slowly, painfully stumbled out of the deli. The room promptly erupted into a round of applause as the rest of the diners became aware of the drama that had played out; a minute or two later, however, the temporary excitement had been forgotten as the diners turned back to their own meals and their own lives.

Justin stood there, his breathing heavy with adrenaline and his heart beating rapidly, still too shaken up to say anything as he stared once more at his knight in shining armor. That was twice now that this so-called uncaring, cocky enigma of a man had come to his rescue. Perhaps he had been right all along – there might just be more to this man than what he allowed others to see.

"Daddy!" Justin turned at the cry as a small, plaintive voice sounded and a little body running full-speed ran toward his father. "Did that bad man hurt you?" he asked the brunet, eyes wide with fear as he wrapped his tiny hands around Brian's legs.

Brian leaned down to gently pick up his son, and cradle him in his arms. "No, Sonny Boy, Daddy's fine," he reassured the little boy, who placed his arms around his father's neck and nestled his head under his father's chin.

Justin gazed in wonder as this seemingly callous man leaned his head down to place a gentle kiss on top of Gus' head. "It's all right, Gus," he murmured soothingly. "Everything's okay. Daddy took care of the mean man," he reassured him.

Gus raised his head to look into his father's eyes. "He was a _bad_ man, Daddy," he solemnly told his father, his brown eyes wide with certainty. "He was going to hurt Jus'n," he explained simply as he looked over at the artist and then back to his father to apparently make sure both men were all right.

Justin smiled as tears unexpectedly came to his eyes at the unbelievable sight of father and son having a heart-to-heart, loving conversation, and for Gus' concern over his own welfare. This was definitely a side of this man he had never seen before, or he dreamed he would _ever _see. _What happened to you, Brian, to make you bottle your emotions up for everyone but your son?_ he wondered curiously, as Brian gave his son another kiss – this time on a pink-tinged cheek – before he finally handed the little boy over to Lindsey, who had walked up to him to make sure he and Justin were okay.

Freed from his son's attention, Brian and Justin stood near each other awkwardly, not sure just what to say before the tense moment was broken. "Justin – my God!" Rhonda cried out as she rushed up to her friend and gave him quick hug. "Are you _all right_?"

Justin whispered, his voice still a little emotional from his close call earlier, "I'm fine, Rhonda, really. Just a little shaken up, I guess," he admitted, looking over to Brian, who gazed back at him with an indecipherable look.

"I am _so_ sorry, Justin," she murmured guiltily. "When I asked you to deliver that order, I completely forgot it was for that _jerk_," she told him. "I _never _would have asked you to do that if I had remembered. I'll make sure Marty kicks the guy out for good, believe me," she reassured him, referring to the owner of the deli.

"I'm fine, Rhonda, thanks. It wasn't your fault – I _offered_ to take it over there. I just didn't realize at the time whom it was _for_," he admitted, grimacing at the unpleasant memory. "Next time wear sneakers instead, okay?" he kidded her in an attempt to lighten the tense situation.

She smiled, grateful for the attempt at levity. "I'll think about it," she told him. "Either that, or maybe roller skates," she suggested, winking at him before, satisfied that the unpleasant event was finally over, she turned toward the kitchen to pick up her next order from the chef, leaving the two men once again alone and struggling for the right words to say.

Brian stood there, his bottom lip curled under awkwardly as the silence dragged out. Finally, he heard a soft "Thank you, Brian," from the blond's lips as he slowly raised his eyes to look into the soft, blue ones, the eyes that both enchanted him and scared the hell out of him in their intensity and tenderness. Brian wasn't used to feeling so exposed to anyone and it frightened him enormously. It was one thing to show this type of imperfection, this weakness, to his son; it was quite another to show it to a man who was fast becoming very important to him.

"Forget it," he told Justin bluntly. "But next time either take some fucking karate lessons or hire a bodyguard – I'm getting tired of coming to your damn rescue all the time," he snapped.

Justin looked at him, startled. _Where did _THAT_ come from? _He was simply trying to thank the man, but at that moment_, _in spite of himself – and his burgeoning feelings toward this multi-faceted man – he let his anger get the better of him. "I didn't _ask_ you to come to my aid," he retorted defensively. "I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he told the other man with a false sense of confidence. He knew it was a bald-faced lie; the truth was, he _had_ managed to get in a lucky jab to the man's balls, but he had been terrified as hell before Brian had stepped in to punch the guy out.

The hazel eyes flashed as Brian snorted. "It sure didn't look that way to me, _Doughboy,_" he stated flatly, the sarcasm back in his voice again. "But I'm glad you're not defenseless, because I have more important things to do than play nursemaid for you all the time and wipe your little button nose," he growled in irritation.

Justin sighed and shook his head in frustration; were they going to play that game _again_? And did he have the heart – or the patience – to keep being a participant in the mixed-up, complex Brian Kinney melodrama that was his _life_? Was it even _worth it?_

"Well, then…_please_, don't let _me_ stop you," Justin declared. He twirled abruptly on his feet and turned toward Rhonda, who was intently observing the curious bantering going on between her friend and his very sexy, elegant friend. _Mmmm…..Maybe I won't need to worry about hooking him up with SOMEONE_ _after all_, she thought, noticing the almost palpable attraction between the two, despite their pretense of being annoyed with each other.

"Rhonda? Will you go get Mr. Kinney's food order and have it wrapped up to go? I don't want to intrude even one more nanosecond on his _very valuable time_," he asked in a scathing tone. Not even casting a quick glance over to his savior, he walked over to Lindsey, Mel and Gus. He forced himself to put a smile on his face – even though his heart wasn't in it at the moment – to tell them how glad he was to see them again and to place a quick kiss on Gus' cheek.

Lindsey couldn't help looking at him sympathetically; she didn't care _how_ often others told her she was crazy, she still knew – despite their actions to the contrary - that these two men _belonged _together. It was as obvious as the look in their eyes when they confronted each other. And if that hadn't been enough of an accurate indication, the way Brian had pounced on that awful man trying to make a move on Justin definitely _proved_ it. The question was, however, how do you make these two stubborn men _SEE_ that as well?

She looked over at her friend, who was leaning on the front counter now looking nonchalant; she knew better, however. She had seen the Kinney mode of operation enough times to know that he always did a superb job of hiding his true feelings , but the eyes always gave him away. And those eyes had said _plenty_ a few minutes ago. They had told her all she needed to know.

"Justin….." Lindsey suddenly had an inspiration. "Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow night? I'm sure Gus would love to see you again – he's been dying to show off his room to you and I think he'd like to put in another painting request – if it's not too much to ask," she said politely.

"Yeah! Jus'n come over?" Gus cried excitedly, bobbing up and down in Lindsey's hold at the thought of getting his cheek painted again with one of Justin's creations. "Please, Jus?" he asked the blond.

Justin sighed; with those big, brown, puppy-dog eyes full of hopefulness, how could he possibly _refuse_? Besides, maybe it would do him good to have dinner with some friends, away from all the pressures of work and school. And even though he and Gus were wide apart in age, he truly enjoyed being with the little boy, whose enthusiasm and wild-eyed innocence were infectious. He smiled at the two women and Gus, having made up his mind. "A home-cooked meal sounds great," he told them gratefully. "What time should I get there?"

Lindsey offered, "Seven o'clock?" as Mel nodded in agreement.

"Yay!" Gus chortled, clapping his hands in happiness. "Will you paint a giraffe on me? Please, Jus'n?" he pleaded with those brown eyes and long, lush lashes that only a child always seemed to have.

Justin grinned. "Sure, Gus….whatever you want, Buddy," he assured him, accepting an impromptu hug from the little boy. "And now I'd better get back to work," he told them, wiping his hands off on his apron and pulling out his order pad. "I'll see you tomorrow, Gus," he told Brian's son, who waved at him as he left to take the next customer's order at a nearby booth.

Mel couldn't help speaking up as soon as Justin was out of earshot. "Lindsey – you're up to something," Mel muttered under her breath. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Why do I have the distinct feeling it involves a certain pain-in-the-ass brunet?"

Lindsey quickly shushed her partner. "Mel…shh….not in front of Gus," she gently chided her for her language. "I'm just giving them a little push, that's all."

"More like a shove, if you ask me," Mel retorted. "I hope you're not making a big mistake here, Baby," she said warily. "If I have to put up with Brian over dinner, you're going to owe me _BIG_ time."

"Oh, don't worry," Lindsey told her partner with a smile. "If my plan goes as I intend it to, neither one of us will be there. Why don't you go ahead and pay for our food at the cash register while I talk to Brian for a minute?"

"I hope you know what you're doing," she warned the other woman as she took Gus from her and began to walk over to the front cash register.

_Yeah, me, too,_ Lindsey silently answered. "Brian…..Can I talk to you for a minute? I've got something to ask you."


	10. Chapter 10: Lindsey's Scheme

_Next Evening – Mel & Lindsey's House_

"Mel, Hurry up!" Lindsey urged her partner as she called up the steps. She breathed a sigh of relief as the attorney came rushing down the stairs a few seconds later. "Where's Gus?" she asked the blonde, noticing it was unusually quiet. Normally when the Gus was around, the only time it was quiet was when he was either taking a nap or he was up to some type of mischief and he didn't want his moms to _know_ about it.

Lindsey must have read her mind, because she told the other woman, "He's in the living room, playing with Dino. He's got an entire dinosaur village set up in there with our old sheets."

Mel turned to peer into the living room, watching with amusement as her son crawled in and out from under his sheet fort with his favorite toy traveling right beside him; it was amazing how much he idolized that green dinosaur. He slept with it, played with it, and even tried to _feed _it. At least the toy didn't make any sound, thank God; Gus made enough _noise_ as it was just by himself.

As Mel finished putting her other earring in her ear, she said, "I don't know what the rush is, anyway. We can't even leave until one of them gets here, you know. We can't leave Gus alone."

"I know," Lindsey agreed. "I just want to be able to leave as soon as one of them does." She glanced up anxiously at the clock. "It's close to seven now – I hope Justin's on time. I'm glad I told Brian to get here at 7:30 – at least that gives us a cushion to work with."

Mel shook her head. "I still can't believe you're doing this – I hope they don't _kill_ each other." She looked at her partner. "I'll admit you're normally a good judge of character, but when it comes to Brian, all bets are off," she said emphatically.

Lindsey smiled reassuringly. "Mel, like I told you, I have a _feeling_ this time. I think our new friend can handle Mr. Kinney _just fine_. If you ask me, I don't think Brian'll know what hit him." She jumped a little as she heard someone firmly knocking on their front door. "Don't look now, but I think Player #1 has just arrived," she said, smiling in relief and just a little nervously as she rushed toward the door.

Shaking her head doubtfully, Mel followed Lindsey to the foyer. "Justin!" Lindsey smiled broadly, as if it were some sort of wonderful surprise that he was there. "I'm so glad you could come for dinner!"

Justin smiled as both women gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. Lindsey noted with approval that while Justin hadn't gotten _too_ dressed up, he had still left his sneakers and too-casual clothes at home for a little smarter look. He was wearing black canvas shoes with a solid red, long-sleeved t-shirt that buttoned partially at the top and a pair of dark gray linen pants. Slung over his shoulder was his art portfolio, no doubt not only holding a large sketch pad, but also some requisite paints to fulfill Gus' wish to have him paint a giraffe on his cheek.

"I appreciate the invitation, believe me," Justin responded as he placed his tote down on the floor. "I can make great desserts and a few simple entrees, but I'm _terrible_ with anything else. You're saving me from yet another frozen dinner, so this is the least I could do," he told them, as he held out a pie in his hand. "It's one of Emmett's favorite desserts – Boston cream pie. I thought you might want it for tonight….that is, if you haven't already made something."

Lindsey smiled in response to this thoughtfulness. "No, actually I hadn't. We were just going to be lazy and break out the ice cream, but I like this idea _much_ better. It's look wonderful – I can't _wait_ to try a piece – thank you!" _Justin really was a very considerate person_, she thought to herself_; I hope you treat him right, Mr. Kinney, or you will be answering to ME._ Mel gave her a funny look as if she were silently congratulating her for her acting performance before she took the pie from Justin and placed it hurriedly in the kitchen; if they didn't leave pretty soon, all of her behind-the-scenes scheming would be for naught.

"Jus'n!" Screeched a small voice, as Gus came bounding into the foyer to greet their dinner guest, Dino predictably in tow as he clutched it in his right hand.

"Hey, Big Guy," Justin responded, smiling broadly at the rambunctious little boy. He bent down to grab Gus under his shoulders and hoist him up on top of his own. "Look how _tall_ you are, Gus!" Justin declared, as he bounced the boy up and down to the child's delight.

"Let's go for a _ride!_" Gus demanded, as Justin laughed. "Okay…..just for a little while, though. We'll be back in a minute," he told his mothers, as he started to head into the living room to make a large circuit around the main floor.

"Uh, Justin….Wait," Lindsey called out to him before he got too far away; the blond turned briefly to acknowledge her. "We've got a slight favor to ask of you. I hope you don't mind." Mel, who was standing next to her, looked down on the floor, unable to meet their friend's gaze. She was afraid if she actually looked at him, somehow he would be able to see right through their ruse and ascertain what was _really _going on.

"We've had a slight emergency come up with a friend just down the street," Lindsey explained smoothly. "Nothing life-threatening or anything like that – our friend Patsy just needs some urgent legal advice, and she's got four kids who are just a _wild, crazy bunch_, so I offered to come down and keep an eye on them while she and Mel talk. She was really upset, or we'd put it off for some other time. Would you be a dear and watch Gus just for a little while? It shouldn't be long."

Mel was astounded how Lindsey's lie rolled off her tongue so easily – it sounded so sincere, even _she_ was beginning to believe it. _I hope you know what you're getting this poor boy involved in,_ she couldn't help thinking.

Justin nodded, smiling a little. "No, it's no problem at all. I'll be glad to entertain one of my biggest fans until you get back. Is there anything I need to do about dinner to help get it ready?"

"No," Lindsey replied. "In fact, it's all done and just warming in the oven. Everything's ready. Besides, I think you'll have your hands full enough with _that_ little spicy dish on your shoulders," she told him teasingly.

"That's not the _only_ spicy dish he's going to have his hands full with," Mel muttered low in her ear.

"Well, we have to be going," Lindsey suddenly piped up, as she gave Mel a warning glare. Justin looked at them curiously; they were acting a little weird about something, but he couldn't figure out just _what_.

"We shouldn't be long," Lindsey repeated to their friend as she reached for her lightweight jacket. "Help yourself to a drink – they're in the fridge," she told him, as she rushed out the door before Mel had a chance to change her mind about their subterfuge, leaving Justin and their son alone.

Gus didn't seem too upset about his mothers leaving; rather, he was too excited about having his new-found friend over to entertain him and act as his surrogate riding horse. He bounced up and down on Justin's shoulders impatiently. "Want to _ride_, Jus'n," he urged the blond. He grabbed a hold of Justin's collar on either side of his neck and jiggled it as if it were reins on his "saddle."

"Okay, okay," Justin laughed, as he held tightly onto Gus' hands and paraded him around the living room, kitchen, and foyer. Gus giggled loudly as Justin dipped and swayed as if he were going to make him fall; of course, Justin was holding tightly onto his precious cargo the entire time and had no intention of dropping the little boy. The possibility of it, however, made Gus quite excited. _I'm glad I don't have to put THIS little guy to bed tonight_, he thought ruefully as Gus shrieked in delight. _Lindsey and Mel are going to fucking KILL me._

"Let's play fort!" Gus demanded abruptly a few minutes later, his fascination with Justin being a horse quickly becoming outdated. "Where's _Dino_?" he asked, wriggling in the blond's hold now as he tried to get down from his "horse;" he had suddenly realized that his cherished "companion" had somehow disappeared from his hand during his and Justin's romp around the rooms.

"Hey, hold on, Buddy," Justin cautioned him, as he slowly swung Gus around to place him gently on the floor. "There you go. Now let's go find out where Dino went to," he told his friend, as Gus impatiently took him by the hand and pulled him into the living room.

"What a cool fort!" Justin told the little boy, who smiled in accomplishment. "_HERE'S_ Dino!" Justin told the child, who immediately rushed over to pick up his favorite toy. "I'm glad he didn't wander off," he told Gus. "You'd better keep hold of him so he doesn't make a run for it," he cautioned him. Gus clutched the dinosaur tightly in his hand, suddenly worried that his friend would lumber away.

"Can you and Dino show me your fort?" Justin asked him. Gus nodded excitedly. "Come _this_ way, Jus!" he cried, as he expertly crouched down and began to crawl quickly inside the sheet-festooned, tented, makeshift fort set between the couch sectional, coffee table, and ottomans. Justin deftly knelt on his hands and knees and followed closely behind him, his knees thankful that Mel and Lindsey had plush carpeting rather than hardwood floors.

The inside of Gus' "fort" was surprisingly roomy; they were both able to sit upright inside the "Dino Room" as Gus had named it; he had even dragged in pillows for them to sit on, and Justin noted with amusement that he had the equivalent of a mini snack bar set up inside a shoe box; as he peered inside, he observed everything from small packs of fruit snacks to granola and licorice. "Do your moms know you have all this food in here, Gus?" he quizzed the little boy, who covered his eyes with his hands and blushed adorably in response. Justin smirked – it seemed that both Kinney boys knew how to charm the pants off someone, at least _figuratively_ speaking; although in the case of the boy's _father_, that could very well be _literally_ as well.

Justin was so busy momentarily reflecting on this thoughts regarding that particular subject that he didn't notice the approaching signs of a storm about to arrive. "What was _that_?" Gus suddenly asked him a little apprehensively, as a rather loud boom sounded outside.

Brought out of his reverie, Justin smiled reassuringly, reaching over to give the little boy a light squeeze. "It's okay, Buddy," he told the boy. "It's just thunder. Sounds like we're going to get some rain. I hope your mommies get back soon, or at least they have an umbrella, or they're going to get wet. As long as we're inside the house, though, we'll be safe and dry, okay?"

Gus nodded as he clutched Dino and leaned into the comforting embrace of the blond companion whose arm was wrapped reassuringly around the slim shoulder.

* * *

"Fuck!" Brian shouted to no one in particular inside his car; he really hadn't wanted to come over to Mel and Lindsey's for dinner tonight, but he was pretty much snookered into it by Lindsey's reminder that Gus was supposed to spend the night with him at the loft tonight. She had, therefore, sensibly insisted that he come over a little early to eat with them rather than run the risk of waking Gus up past his bedtime. Having to endure a dinner with Mel made his stomach almost queasy, but he truly did want to spend time with Gus and it seemed like a fairly miniscule trade off in order to do so.

What he _hadn't_ planned on, however, was the now torrential rain pouring down upon his car and making it virtually impossible to see where he was going as he drove toward the Munchers' home. To top it off, also, he hadn't given any thought to bringing an umbrella; not only was it totally unthinkable for a fashionable man to even _carry _an umbrella, he had mistakenly relied upon the fucking weatherman, who once again had gotten the forecast totally wrong. So now he not only had to spend an evening with Mel, he was bound to get soaked just making a run for it from the car to their front porch. _Terrific_. The only tolerable part of the whole evening was the opportunity to spend some more time with his son; sometimes, he felt like that was the only part of his life he had gotten _right_.

As he struggled to drive through the sheets of rain, his mind strayed to a certain blond artist who had occupied a lot of his thoughts lately. The man was such a dichotomy; at once so sensitive and even vulnerable in a way, but also fiercely passionate, independent and stubborn as hell. If he were to admit it to himself, maybe he was not so different from _him_. Is that why the man affected him so much – because he was so much LIKE him? All he knew was, he was in his thoughts constantly and he couldn't get him out of his fucking mind if he _wanted_ to. And he didn't – he wanted this man like no other. He shook his head in frustration – he could have any other man he wanted; why did he have to have _this one?_ Why, indeed. The way things had been going with them lately, he was either going to have to fuck the man senseless soon or _KILL _him and just get it over with; at least that would put him out of his misery either way.

"Shit!" he had been so preoccupied with a certain blond that he almost missed the side street for Lindsey and Mel's house; cursing to himself, he barely managed to veer the rear-wheel-drive 'Vette onto the street and keep the vehicle upright on all four wheels without hydroplaning. Sighing in annoyance, he slowed down as he approached their two-story house; he noticed to his consternation that the rain hadn't let up at all and showed no signs of abating whatsoever. He was just going to have to make a run for it and hope for the best; he was resigned, however, to his new, black, button-down Armani shirt and pair of dark-blue jeans getting soaking wet before he could even make it halfway to the door. _Just great_, he grumbled. _A perfect ending to a perfect week._

As he pulled into their driveway and turned off the motor, he paused inside the car, dreading the drenching he was no doubt going to get once he opened the door. Finally bracing himself for the wet onslaught, he steeled himself just before he wrenched the door open and quickly slid out from under the steering wheel, immediately being pelted with large raindrops. "Fuck!" he snarled disgustedly, as he shielded his hand over his eyes in a feeble attempt to keep from being drowned as he made a mad dash for the front door of the Munchers' house.

_Thank God they at least have a covered porch_, he thought darkly as he stomped his feet in an unsuccessful attempt to dry out his expensive designer shoes. "Shit!" he growled, as he pulled his shirt out of his pants and tried unsuccessfully to wring some of the water out of his shirt tail. He shook his head violently from side to side, raindrops of wetness flying everywhere. He jumped as an extremely loud clap of thunder boomed. Deciding that he was more than ready to get dried off, he knocked roughly on the front door and rang the bell. _Come on, Lindsey – let me the fuck in!_

Justin jumped inside the "tent" at the sound of someone thumping on the door and the bell ringing incessantly. Whoever it was, the impatient caller was definitely in a hurry to get in. Had Mel and Lindsey forgotten their key? After hearing how hard it was raining, though, he wasn't too surprised the person wanted to get in where it was dry. "I'll _get_ it," Gus suddenly volunteered, scampering quickly through the tunnel to the exit.

"Gus…..wait!" he called out as the little boy who had just been beside him scooted quickly out of the fort to see who was at the door. Justin shook his head at the boy's inordinate curiosity; _didn't they teach this boy not to open doors to strangers?_ He hastily began to crawl through the tunneled, sheeted walls but froze at the sound of Gus excitedly greeting one of his parents; only it wasn't the voice of one of the parents he was _expecting_ to hear.

"Daddy!" he heard Gus squeal in delight, as the boy excitedly responded to his being visited twice in two days by his father. Justin's heart began to beat quicker and he stopped in his tracks as he heard the familiar drawl, "Hey, Sonny Boy. Let Daddy close the door – it's raining cats and dogs out there," he growled.

"Where, Daddy?" Gus asked excitedly, "Can I have a dog?" Justin clapped his hand over his mouth and bit back a chuckle as he heard Gus innocently asking for one of the imaginary pets outside.

"There's really not any cats and dogs out there, Sonny Boy," Justin heard the father gently say to his son. "It's just something funny you say when it's really raining hard," he explained. Brian looked around, concerned, as he noticed Gus was apparently alone. "Where're your mommies, Gus?" he heard the man ask, a slight sharp, rebuking tone in his voice.

"They went to Aunt Patsy's," Gus divulged helpfully.

Justin could hear the anger in Brian's voice as he said quietly, "You mean you're _alone_ here?"

"NO, Daddy….I'm with Jus'n," Gus proudly explained. Justin closed his eyes in dread, his secret exposed now. He heard the surprised tone that suddenly appeared in the other man's voice as he asked, "Justin? Where _is_ he, Sonny Boy?" Justin thought he detected just a touch of curious excitement in the man's voice as he said his name, thinking a little smugly that the man had again actually remembered his _real_ name this time; apparently he _could_ remember it when he wanted to.

Brian's heart leapt at his son's disclosure. Justin was _here?_ But where? Why? How? All those questions swirled around in his head as he looked intently around the room with a quick, cursory search for the blonde who had been on his mind so much this past week, every since he had first laid eyes on him.

"He's in _there_," Gus told his father helpfully, pointing to his temporary dinosaur haven. Gus began to pull at his father's hand to get him to follow into their secret hideout. "Come on, Daddy, I'll _show you_," he urged the man.

Brian smiled a little wickedly. _This could be an interesting evening after all_. He was quite anxious to see the little Doughboy again, but hesitated as he continued to drip all over the laminate in the foyer. "Gus….Daddy needs a towel first. Can you go get me one?"

Gus nodded and ran toward the stairs to head up to the laundry room for a towel as Brian stood in the foyer, a wide smile on his face now. "Come out, come out wherever you are, _Doughboy_," he sing-songed.

Justin couldn't help responding to that voice; the man could make his pulse speed up in a virtual instant just by speaking. He took a couple of breaths to calm himself, not wanting this overly-confident man to know just what effect he was having on him, before he slowly knelt down and crawled through the tunnel to greet his and Gus' visitor.

Brian smirked as he followed the path of Justin's journey through the sheets as the fabric fluttered back and forth, thinking there was a much more _pleasurable_ journey through the sheets that HE had in mind for later. After a few seconds, he saw a blond head peek out of the fort's entrance as a pair of very familiar blue eyes stared up at him in recognition.

"What are _YOU_ doing here?" Brian asked him, trying to sound a little annoyed as he rubbed his hands rapidly on his shoulders in an attempt to get a little warmer; after his dash through the pelting rain outside, he found himself quickly getting chilled by the exposure. Or was it perhaps someone's intense gaze at him that was making goose pimples break out all over his skin?

Justin stiffly stood up outside the tent; he discovered to his slight chagrin that after crawling around in there on his hands and knees, maybe he wasn't quite as young as he _thought_ he was. He stretched his hands upward in an attempt to loosen the stiffness and also perhaps gain a few more seconds of composure before facing the man again. As his arms came back down to his sides, he looked over at Brian and felt his breath catch in his throat; the man was absolutely drenched from head to toe, his dark hair spiked at odd angles from his previous shaking attempt to dry it. The black shirt he was wearing was hanging out of his jeans, plastered so tightly to his chest like a second skin that Justin could see his nipples standing erect even through the expensive fabric. His dark blue jeans were also molded to his lower body, outlining his abundant cock through the denim. In a nutshell, Justin thought he looked hot and sexy as hell; totally, absolutely _dangerous_. He fleetingly thought that he should have included Brian on his friend Michael's superhero cake as an additional larger-than-life villian; he would have aptly named him _Danger Man_.

"Well?" Brian said, noticing to his smug satisfaction that Justin was continuing to ogle him, and not in a _bad_ way. He had seen enough of that look before to know that the man was lusting for him; he could tell by the way the artist's generous mouth was hanging slightly open and by the large, luminous eyes drinking him in. He twisted his lips in amusement as Justin continued to gaze at him mutely before the blond realized he hadn't said anything out loud.

Justin cursed himself silently; disgusted that this man could always make him appear to be so stupid and self-conscious; why did he allow him to have that affect on him? And more to the point, how long could he _resist_ the man? Trying to get a grip on himself, he recalled the reason why – despite this man being the absolutely sexiest, too-attractive-to-be-real man he had _ever met_, he was still reputed to be only interested in one thing – a one-time fantastic fuck and then a prompt goodbye with a promise of never looking back. Was it worth throwing his heart away simply for one mind-blowing night of sex?

"Uh…" he began indolently. He was thankfully spared from having to speak intelligently by Gus' abrupt reappearance with a large, fluffy blue towel. "Here, Daddy," Gus said, holding out the bath sheet towel to his father, who smiled down at him and took it to begin drying off his hair first "Thanks, Sonny Boy," he said tenderly, reaching down to pat the brown-haired head lovingly.

Justin watched as Gus smiled up at his father with adoration; apparently Gus was able to see through his father's indifferent mask well enough to know that that was not how the man truly was inside; perhaps he had been correct all along – there was a lot more to this man that most people gave him credit for.

Brian noticed with disgust how sopping wet he was; he decided, however, that that just might be a _good_ thing. Looking over at the delectable morsel who he hoped was going to be one of the _appetizers_ for his dinner tonight, he tucked the towel under his arm and began to unbutton his shirt

Justin's mouth went dry as he suddenly found his voice. "What….What are you _doing_?" he asked the brunet almost frantically as Brian continued to _slowly_ unbutton the drenched shirt, exposing more and more of the taut, tanned skin beneath. He noticed to his sheer satisfaction that the blond visibly swallowed hard at the sight.

"I'm getting out of my wet clothes, what does it _look_ like?" he drawled sexily. As he continued his striptease, he gazed over at the blond who seemed frozen to his spot by the "fort." Gus, on the other hand, promptly held out his hand to accept his father's piece of wet clothing, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a man to be doffing his clothes in the foyer of their home.

_Oh, My God_. This was the first time he had seen Brian without his shirt on, and he was becoming hornier by the second. What was this man _doing_? Besides driving him insane, that is. He breathlessly asked the brunet, "Shouldn't you be doing that in the bathroom?" He found that he couldn't look away, even if he wanted to, as Brian smirked and proceeded to start unbuttoning his jeans now; Justin's breath hitched in his throat and his cock continued to harden even further as he watched like some voyeur about to see a collision occur; perhaps that wasn't far from the truth at the moment, because Brian's eyes locked onto his like a missile searching for its target.

"You wouldn't want me to drip all over the Munchers' carpet, now would you?" he asked the other man innocently, openly smiling now at him in a _gotcha_ sort of way. To Justin's consternation, Gus simply continued to stand there as their show played out, totally oblivious to his own discomfort at the sight of his father about to practically strip naked in front of his eyes.

Justin narrowed his brows in annoyance; _damn fucking tease_. He figured the man had had plenty of practice with seduction in the past, if _this_ was any indication of his previous abilities. He watched, spellbound now, as the man opened the fly of his jeans and _s-l-o-w-l-y_ peeled them down his hips, displaying a tight, perfectly fit pair of black briefs underneath – a pair of briefs that left absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination. As Brian used one foot to deftly remove his shoes, he finally pulled his jeans the rest of the way down and stepped out of them, now only clad in his briefs and a pair of black socks. He curled his lips under in open amusement now as he watched Justin lick his lips, his face rapidly turning a dark pink, the desire and lust transparently written on his beautiful face. _Gotcha, Doughboy_.

Justin felt his face warming as he grew hornier and hornier; if the man didn't move soon, he was going to go over there, knock him to the ground, and ride his cock so hard he wouldn't be able to stand up for a week, unintended audience present or not. To his utter relief, however, and just a little disappointment, he watched as Brian reached down and picked up his wet jeans to offer them to his son. "Would you take those upstairs to the bathroom, Sonny Boy?" he asked his son, who nodded and hurried toward the stairs as if he were clutching a treasure in his hands, his treasured _Dino_ momentarily forgotten nearby on the floor.

The two men were finally left alone while Gus carried out his mission. Brian continued to smile triumphantly at the other man, who stood there with a mixture of annoyance and outright lust on his face before Brian smiled wickedly and wrapped the large towel around his slim waist to Justin's enormous relief. "Wouldn't want to get you too overexcited about the _appetizer_ before dinner, _Doughboy_," he snickered, laughing softly now at his achievement.

Justin huffed, perturbed that this man could see through him so easily. Afraid all of a sudden that he was playing a little too closely to the fire now, he walked toward the other man with the intention of leaving before it was too late. "Well, now that Gus' dad is here, I'll be going," he announced, trying to sound more sure that he actually felt. As he walked by the other man, however, that plan flew out the window as the brunet reached over and grabbed him roughly to pull him flush with his own body, his hazel eyes flashing with the same desire that was presently coursing through the blond's veins as well.

Brian could feel the slender man's breathing cycling rapidly in his chest as he held the young man tightly in his arms. His hands grasped Justin's shoulders as the blond slowly raised his blue eyes to bore into the hazel ones that were quickly becoming more and more familiar with each passing encounter. "I've changed my mind," Brian murmured softly. "I don't think you've had _nearly enough_ of the _appetizer_," he growled just before his lips came crashing down on the other man, who let out an audible gasp at the contact. It took only a few seconds of his tongue teasingly rubbing against the lush, pink mouth before Justin obligingly parted his lips for the sweet, heady entrance.

Justin moaned at the sensual onslaught of Brian's talented lips and tongue as his own hands quickly snaked around the brunet's back to begin roaming all over the hot, quickly-drying skin. _I really AM playing with fire here,_ he thought, _because my hands feel like they're burning._ As Brian angled his head and continued to plunge deeper and deeper, Justin's mind was only aware of one wish – to get as close to this man as humanly possible and with as few barriers as possible. Brian apparently had the same desire, as he felt the man begin to loosen his shirt out from under his pants in a few quick tugs. He moaned in sensory overload as he felt Brian's long-tapered hands begin to crawl up his chest to roam around the unfamiliar and uncharted but oh-so-thrilling territory.

Brian finally tore his mouth from Justin's in a determined quest to kiss his way down from his ear to his neck, planting butterfly nips in a hot, wet trail as his hands continued to roam freely all over the blond's smooth, pale chest; he flicked a nipple and felt a thrilling rush as he heard a resounding groan of pleasure in return, which only incited his desire even more. He had to have more – he had to have _ALL_ of this man – NOW.

He possessively wrapped his arms around the man's back, pulling the blond to him even more tightly as he felt Justin's hands mirroring his own lust-filled actions. As Justin began to nuzzle his neck, Brian took advantage of this position to begin unbuttoning the blond's pants in a quest to see all of this treasure cradled tightly against him. He felt Justin's warm breath coming out in small, rapid puffs on his neck as he impatiently tried to unbutton the top button of the blond's jeans in a quest to unzip the offending garment and remove it as quickly as possible.

"Daddy?" he heard an unexpected little voice like a bucket of cold water being thrown at him as he suddenly realized with some sense of embarrassment just where he and Justin were; he also felt the man in his arms stiffen with the same reaction as he removed his fingers with extreme reluctance from Justin's pants and separated himself from the other man. He looked at Justin, who was staring back at him with wide, expressive blue eyes filled with the signs of unfulfilled passion, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath, his lips swollen and red from their passionate lip lock of the last several minutes. _My God – what you DO to me when you look like that. _Brian had to look away from the other man for his own sanity, convinced his own eyes were transparently conveying the same message as Justin's.

He took a deep breath to try and release some of his pent-up sexual frustration before he looked down at his son, who was staring at him, wide-eyed with curiosity now. He spoke to his son, his voice coming out a little breathlessly, "Did you put Daddy's clothes in the bathroom to dry, Sonny Boy?" he asked his son, who nodded in confirmation. The boy, who was uncharacteristically silent for now, was still trying to figure out just what he had interrupted.

"I think I'll go put them in the dryer so they get dried a little faster," Brian replied. He began to walk toward the stairs but stopped cold when he heard his son speaking to him again.

"Do you _like_ Jus'n, Daddy?" the boy asked innocently, looking from his father over to their other guest, who face was abruptly and inexplicably darkening to a rosy tinge of embarrassment.

All kinds of responses filtered through Brian's mind as he pondered the answer to his son's question, which was spoken so openly. Truth be told, there could really be only one response to that question. He opened his mouth to answer his son, but his eyes never left Justin's as he answered the little boy truthfully, his voice unexpectedly soft. "Yes, Gus…..I do. I like Justin a _lot."_

Justin's heart instantly did a flip-flop at the warm, even tender tone in that voice and his eyes teared up slightly in acknowledgment of the sincere, even heartfelt reply; there was no doubt from the tone of Brian's voice that he meant what he had just said. He wasn't just saying it in hopes that his son would be satisfied with his answer and not press him any further – the manner in which his voice said it left no doubt that he was being painfully honest, for Justin had the distinct impression that it was extremely hard for this over-the-top, confident, and sometimes conceited man to admit to _anyone_ how he really felt about them. He felt an inexplicable degree of pleasure and even honor at being perhaps the first man Brian had ever admitted his feelings to.

Gus smiled happily. "I thought so, Daddy, because you kiss Jus'n the same way that my mommies kiss," he told his father, who merely smirked and raised his eyebrows in partial annoyance to being compared in any way, shape, or form to Mel, especially. "I like Jus'n, _too_, Daddy," Gus told him; he abruptly ran over to the blond, who smiled, and bent down for a sloppy kiss from the boy, touched to be included in Gus' circle of his friends.

Brian watched the interaction between Justin and his son with amazement; Gus was always a loving child, but he seldom bonded so deeply and so quickly with a virtual stranger. To him, that just proved how special this man was – to _both_ of them. For perhaps the first time, he realized his attraction to Justin was more than just due to his physical appearance – the man was beautiful inside _and_ out.

He cleared his throat slightly, obtaining both Justin and his son's attention. He smiled for his son but his eyes were focused solely on Justin as he asked, "Gus, can you go me a favor and take Daddy's wet clothes and stick them in the dryer? I'll be up in just a minute to turn it on for you, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," Gus quickly agreed; he always enjoyed participating in anything he thought of as an adult activity; it made him feel older and more important. He quickly turned on his heels and made a mad dash for the stairs, trotting up them at a full run; within a few seconds, he had all but disappeared from sight, leaving the two men alone once again.

As Brian stared back at him intently, Justin unexpectedly felt shy around this darkly handsome, magnificent man; this tender side of Brian was very surprising but also very intriguing as well as attractive; it certainly made him want to get to know this man even more. But just what did _Brian_ want?

He had a partial answer when Brian spoke up quietly. "Justin…..I really would like for you to stay," he said softly; the tone in his voice was surprisingly without any of the sarcasm or arrogance that Justin had become accustomed to hearing and it left him almost speechless for a few seconds in its sincerity. "What do you say?" The question was made tentatively, almost nervously, as Brian waited for his reply.

Justin looked back at him, almost as if he were seeing him for the first time. He smiled a little shyly himself now as he answered firmly, "Yes. I'd like that, too."


	11. Chapter 11: Care For a Little Dessert?

Justin let out the breath he had been holding after Brian turned to follow his son upstairs to turn the dryer on. What had just _happened_ here? Had Brian actually answered him like a _normal human being_? Did he really say he _liked_ him? Justin shook his head in annoyance with himself and gave himself a small smack on the head; he was acting like some immature little school boy with a teenage crush on his teacher; _get a hold of yourself, Justin_, he chided himself. Although Brian had _sounded _sincere, his reputation as a fuck-'em-and-leave-'em kind of guy had preceded him. For all Justin knew, the man might be acting this way and saying that just to get into his pants for the night; maybe he was just playing the part of the sincere admirer because Justin was playing hard to get. He frowned and bit his lip in confusion; Brian's tone of voice and body language certainly _conveyed _sincerity; but was Justin merely seeing and hearing what he _wanted_ to see and hear? Was Brian only acting this way because his son was fond of him and he didn't want to disappoint him? Doubt and just a little lack of self-confidence reared its ugly head as Justin stood there in contemplation. Well, he had already told Brian he would stay, and he promised Mel and Lindsey he would be here until they got back, so either way he was stuck. Vowing to tread carefully for the evening, however, he decided nevertheless that he was in it for the short term – at least for the next few hours; he might as well try and make the best of it.

* * *

Brian found his son in the upstairs laundry room, trying earnestly to tug the front-loading door open so he could toss his father's wet clothes inside to get dry. "It won't _open_, Daddy," Gus reported, as he pulled with all his might on the handle to get the stubborn door to open for him.

Brian grinned in amusement. "Let _ME_ try, Sonny Boy," he told his son tenderly; he had to smile at the little boy's look of grim determination, the lips so reminiscent of his own as they curled under at the effort. "It's _stuck_," Gus declared disgustedly. He gave it one last, whole-hearted tug and found himself abruptly thrown to the ground as his grip on the door handle slipped and he fell backward onto the carpet.

"Whoa! You okay there, sport?" Brian asked him, as Gus lay there on his back with his hands lying to either side of the little body. The brunet helped pull his son to his feet as he gave him a perfunctory inspection to make sure he wasn't physically harmed. Satisfied the boy was okay, he reached down to tousle the soft, brown head. "It's okay, Gus," his father assured him. "I'll get it open for you. You get the clothes ready, okay?" He winked at him. "We'll show this dryer who's the boss here."

As Gus nodded his agreement, Brian quickly made short thrift of the door and opened it easily to Gus' consternation. Brian laughed as his son gave the machine a quick kick with his gym-shoed foot and almost violently threw the pants and shirt into the dryer. Just before he closed the door back, Brian made one more spontaneous decision. _Maybe it was time to up the ante just a bit between him and a certain blond dish downstairs…_

Unwrapping the bath towel from around his slim waist, he dropped it temporarily on the floor and peeled off his briefs to throw them into the dryer as well; after all, they were damp, too, weren't they? Gus just stood there, soaking it all in as if it were the most natural action in the world. Brian smirked; maybe it _was _natural. He thought _briefly_ (he smiled to himself at the pun) of just walking completely naked back down the steps – after all, God knows how many times he had done that at the loft without a second thought – and it would have certainly been interesting to see a certain blond's reaction to it – but he changed his mind when he thought of the unpleasant ramifications of Gus' pit bull mother Mel coming home to find out that he had been morally impugning _her_ son, so with some reluctance he picked the towel back up and replaced it around his waist.

Placing the setting on "damp," he picked his son up and said, "let's get it started, Sonny Boy." Gus happily pushed the knob in to begin the dryer; as his father set him back down, the little boy quickly rubbed his hands back and forth as if he were disposing of an unpleasant task. "There," he said, satisfied, nodding his head once firmly. Brian nodded his head curtly in return before smiling. He would never admit it out loud – especially to _Mel_ of all people – but he enjoyed being with his son immensely. The boy's unbridled enthusiasm for even mundane things always made Brian's mood lighter and helped him to forget his troubles.

Speaking of which, unbeknownst to Brian, his current "trouble" was presently in the kitchen downstairs, trying to make himself useful while the other two occupants of the house were upstairs drying Brian's clothes. Just the thought of that man up there without almost a stitch of clothing on made Justin's heart start beating furiously and his body to tingle. _Damn the man – he was fucking ENJOYING it, too; _Justin could tell by the amused expression and the vibrant hazel eyes that seemed to mock him and be able to tell every little thought he was thinking in his head as the brunet had stripped down to almost nothing. With those tight, snug-fitting black briefs, the man could have just as well be wearing _nothing_, because that's exactly what they hid from Justin's prying eyes – _NOTHING_. If artists were renowned for one attribute, it was their sense of imagination, and Justin had an extremely _vivid_ one when it came to Brian Kinney. After getting just a little preview of the real deal, however, he was sure his imagination could never be vivid enough, though, to truly capture the feel of that man's body possessing him totally.

He berated himself mentally as he stood near the refrigerator; just the thought of Brian Kinney and him fucking made his cock hard as a rock and leaking copiously. He furiously tried to think of something, _anything_, distasteful to get his mind off the damn man. Algebra tests, Roseanne Barr, station wagons, ice water, ice _skaters_ with their lean, taut bodies, tanned and toned, wearing skintight spandex outfits that molded to their athletic frame and hid _nothing _to the imagination….

"Aargh!" he swore out loud. "100, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94…" He began to count out loud rhythmically, _anything_ inane to keep his mind off what his body was craving at the moment. He opened the refrigerator door and stuck his head in partway, feeling the shocking, cold temperature hit him like a lightning bolt. "Ah," he murmured, as he felt his body began to chill from the sudden exposure. _This was more like it_, he sighed in relief as he felt his heart began to slow down and he felt a certain part of his anatomy finally begin to relax. _Thank God._

He about jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice growling sexily behind him, "Having a _hot flash, _Doughboy?" The man's warm breath poured down on his skin like silky, molten lava as he raised his head in surprise.

"Ow!" He painfully bumped his head up against one of the refrigerator shelves; as he turned around, his hand rubbing the knot that was quickly surfacing on top, he noticed Brian standing close by – _much_ too close, for Justin's sense of safety as well as his sanity; the brunet lips were curled under in wicked amusement. Justin's eyes widened involuntarily as he realized the man was apparently now wearing only the blue bath towel and a smile; the towel seemed to have loosened and shifted even more tantalizingly lower on the man's narrow hips, exposing the fact that Brian had somehow discarded the one remaining, protective barrier between Justin's quickly faltering reserve and complete, utter surrender – Brian's_ briefs_; the man was standing so close there was no doubt there was only skin underneath that towel – tanned, leaned, taut, glorious muscled flesh; Justin's heart began to hammer in his chest and he could almost feel the heat radiating from the brunet who was practically towering over him. Justin bit back a profanity-laced retort to his painful encounter with the refrigerator shelf when he noticed Gus standing right behind his father, peering up at him curiously. At he looked from father to son, Justin almost had to laugh at the two males standing so close together, both at the moment almost mirroring each other's expressions of curious innocence, although _one_ of the males was definitely FAR from innocent at the moment, if he EVER was.

"What are you doing, Jus'n?" Gus asked him, one petite hand on his hip as he cocked his head sideways to try and decipher just what was going on between his new friend and his father. Gus had no doubt that the two _liked _each other; after all, his father had admitted it and he had seen the way the two of them had kissed earlier. His mommies kissed like that all the time, but especially after they had had an argument over something. Had his father and Justin had an argument, too? Was that why they had been kissing so much earlier?

Justin let out a breath, trying to gain patience in the interim. He hadn't really had much experience dealing with such an insatiably curious child like Gus; the boy both fascinated and vexed him at the same time. He was sure when Gus was a little younger, he must have been the boy in pre-school who was always asking the teacher _why is the sky blue? Why does it rain? How does an airplane fly? Why are you and daddy looking at each other that way?_ He shook his head to try and clear those thoughts from his mind; hopefully, Gus couldn't read minds like his father seemed to be able to do. "I'm trying to see what your mommies wanted to cook for dinner so I could get it started for them," he told the little boy. Turning back to the refrigerator, he spied two casserole dishes wrapped in foil. "I think I found it," he told Gus, smiling, as he reached in to pluck the two containers out of the refrigerator and place them on a nearby counter.

"Mommy left a note," Gus helpfully divulged, as he walked over to a small side table under the nearby wall telephone and picked up an envelope. As he retrieved it and returned to Justin to place it in his hand, Justin was surprised to see that the envelope had his name written on it. _I think I smell a rat_, he thought, as he opened up the unsealed envelope to read the note inside:

_Justin – I hope you'll forgive a little deception on my part. Dinner's in the fridge – just heat it up in the oven at 350⁰ for about 20 minutes and it should be ready to eat. There's also wine for the adults – as well as grape juice for Gus and Brian (_Justin smirked at that comment) _on the side door. By the way – don't let Brian fool you – he likes to play the carefree stud but I've seen the way he looks at you. Give him a chance – I have a feeling about you two. Gus' bedtime is at 9:00; we'll be back around 11:00 – enjoy your "date!" Lindsey_

As Justin read the message contained inside the envelope, Brian saw his hands trembling slightly and noticed his face reddening in embarrassment. He was dying to know what the message said, but he didn't want Justin to know how curious he was. By now, he had figured out there was more to Mel and Lindsey's "unexpected" minor crisis than they had let on; this little _convenient _arrangement had Lindsey's name written all over it. He vowed to thank his friend for that later.

"Problem?" Brian asked the blond innocuously, his eyebrows raised in challenge. Justin pasted an indifferent mask on his face before he looked up from the note and advised his dinner companion in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone, "No, no problem. Just instructions on how to make dinner and when Gus' bedtime is." He smiled at Gus' frown to the word _bedtime – _he couldn't say the boy's reaction surprised him; someone as full of life as Gus probably hated having to put the brakes on his non-stop activities. Before Brian had any chance to ascertain its full contents, Justin quickly folded the note back up and placed it securely in his pants pocket.

_What are you NOT telling me, Doughboy? _Brian wondered. He noticed that while he and Gus had been upstairs, Justin had managed to tuck his shirt back into his pants. While he was disappointed not to be able to glimpse the blond's soft, pale skin underneath his shirt, he felt a slight surge of excitement over a chance later to do some more _in depth exploring _after his son had gone to bed. And he was going to make absolutely sure that his son would be going to bed at _precisely _his appointed bedtime.

"Uh…..Justin, just _when_ IS Gus' bedtime?" he asked; he picked at some imaginary lint on his sleeve while he tried to keep the inordinate curiosity out of his voice. "I just don't want to get in trouble with his mommies," he quickly explained, as Justin gave him a skeptical look. He was supposed to take Gus home to spend the night, but he began to think it might be better to come back and get him in the morning; he was hoping he would be _occupied_ later tonight and didn't want any "obstacles," however loved they might be, to get in the way of his hoped-for plans.

Justin looked down to avert his smile of pleasure; his heart leaped with the exciting possibility that perhaps Lindsey was right – maybe Brian really _did_ care about him as more than just a one-night fuck. At least he _hoped_ that was why Brian was so intent on learning when Gus went to bed; he fervently hoped it was because of that and not just because Gus' _DAD_ was only interested in _going to bed_, too.

"Lindsey says it's at 9:00," he reported to the brunet, who nodded neutrally; inside, however, Brian was furiously thinking, _two more hours, two more hours, two more hours….._

"Aw, Daddy," Gus pouted. "I want to stay up and play with you and Jus'n." He stomped his foot softly as his lower lip turned under in a distinct sulk. "Can't I stay up late, too?" he pleaded, his big hazel eyes large and expressive. "Look," he said, holding out Dino, whose big reptilian eyes stared back at Brian unblinkingly. "Dino's not tired, either. Can't we please stay up past our bedtime just once, daddy?"

Justin turned away to hide his smile; how could anyone say no to those eyes? Wasn't that how HE had gotten in trouble in the _first_ place, though? Except the eyes he couldn't resist were currently residing in the boy's _father_ instead. And they were looking at him intently, almost _hungrily_, never leaving his face as Brian softly answered his son, "Now, Sonny Boy, you wouldn't want your mommies to think I was corrupting you, would you?"

Gus frowned. "Daddy…..," he asked plaintively, "What does '_crupted _mean?"

Justin giggled at the question; Brian thought the sound was positively charming in a lesbian sort of way; of course, he wasn't going to tell _Justin_ that, however. Again, he wondered if he could elicit that same type of giggle from his own personal _Doughboy_ in bed; all sorts of techniques filtered unabated through his mind as he thought of just what sort of activities they could do horizontally to try and recreate that delightful, musical sound. He couldn't wait to discover just what would work – he fervently hoped it would take an _entire night_ of "experimenting" to find out.

Directing his attention back somewhat reluctantly to his incessantly curious son, he told him, "It just means that we wouldn't be following your mommies' rules, that's all. All little boys need lots of sleep to grow up big and hard," he added gently. He glanced over wickedly at Justin, his eyes dancing with mischief and something just a little more…..something _dangerous, sinister_. "Why, just look at Justin – see how _big and hard_ he is?. When YOU grow up, you can stay up late to _play, too._" To his delight, he noticed the blond's face flushing a deep pink as he continued, "Sorry, Sonny Boy, you and Dino will just have to go to bed on time tonight." _Of course, if they wanted to go bed even earlier,_ Brian thought hopefully_, who was I to complain?_ "Don't forget," he told his son as part of a compromise, "We're still spending all day together tomorrow." _But tonight, Doughboy, you're ALL mine._

Justin licked his lips a little nervously as he watched a myriad of emotions seem to wash over the brunet's face as the hazel eyes almost bored right through him; he seemed to notice a mixture of curiosity, hunger, and out-and-out lust almost oozing out of every pore of Brian's handsome face; and the _eyes_. As Brian continued to stare at him while answering his son, Justin almost felt dizzy as he studied the brunet's eyes, which were simply mesmerizing in their intensity and constantly changing appearance. The hazel eyes seemed to change color continually, from a soft emerald green to a golden brown to a dark, almost black hue of blatant desire.

Gus seemed somewhat appeased by the idea of being able to spend Saturday with his father as he smiled back at the brunet. "Can Dino come, too?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure he can," Brian told him, finally forcing himself to turn his gaze away from the enticing sight nearby to look directly at his son and smile.

Justin took advantage of the momentary lull in Brian's study of him to pick up the two prepared dinner dishes and walk over to the stove to place them in the oven for dinner. "If your bedtime's at 9:00, buddy, we'd better get your dinner started right away," he told the little boy, who quickly ran over to the oven to peer into the window to take a look at the contents. "What _is _it?" he asked his new friend curiously, as he scrunched up his nose against the glass.

"Careful, Gus, the oven's going to get hot soon," Justin cautioned him, gently pulling the little boy away from the appliance. "Looks like your mommy made us some baked ziti and scalloped potatoes for dinner," he helpfully informed the boy.

"Yay!" Gus cried jubilantly. "My _favorites!"_ He bounced up and down in excitement. He reached up to tug on Justin's shirt sleeve. "When will it be ready?"

Justin looked down fondly and smiled at the hazel eyes peering up at him that were SO familiar to him, only they belonged to someone else – the boy's adult carbon copy. "About 20 minutes, Buddy," he informed the little boy. "Why don't you and Dino go play in your fort and I'll call you as soon as it's ready?" he told Gus.

Brian was elated; NOW they were getting somewhere. Gus in a separate room – in an enclosed fort, even – for several minutes, with him and Justin in the kitchen – _alone_. Sounded like the beginning of a _delicious _evening; at least he sure _hoped so_.

"Okay," Gus readily agreed to Brian's delight; he turned and was about to leave when a sudden desire occurred to him. "Come _with_ me, Daddy," he implored his father. "You haven't seen my fort yet."

Brian groaned inwardly; _oh, no._ _Not NOW, Sonny Boy._ "Oh, I'd LIKE to, Gus," he told his son in what he hoped was an even, interested, fatherly-like tone of voice. "But Justin might need help setting the table for us to eat." _There – that sounded perfectly reasonable; at least it should to his son. So why was Justin trying so hard to keep from laughing?_ He could clearly hear the blond's muffled snickering as he flashed a glare at the blond, who had his hand clamped over his mouth.

Gus responded innocently, "Can't Jus'n do that by _himself_, Daddy? I really want you to see what I made – _please, Daddy?_" He walked up to Brian and held out a little, pale hand as his eyes peered up at the brunet through soft, feathered lashes.

_Aw, Sonny Boy, you're KILLING ME here._ He looked over to Justin for help; all he got from him instead was a "Don't worry, _Daddy_ – I can handle setting the table just fine. Gus, you go ahead and take your daddy to see your fort – I'll call you both when dinner's ready."

"Yeah!" Gus bounced up and down a little with glee as he grabbed his father's hand and began to pull him toward the living room for a tour. Justin smiled broadly at the brunet's look of disappointment just before he was reluctantly tugged out of the kitchen and into the other room, Justin's soft chuckling still ringing in his ears. _You're going to PAY for that, little boy_, Brian silently warned the blond under his breath, as he obligingly bent down to follow his son into the "Dino tent."

* * *

As he watched the two of them disappear into the makeshift cave, Justin heaved a great sigh of relief; if he had to see that nearly-naked man one more second longer, he thought he would explode with desire. My God – the man was _magnificent _looking. And that was just the parts he _could see_. He shuddered slightly at the thought of seeing the man totally exposed; of course, after he got another glimpse of the man's captivating eyes, the next part of the man his gaze would immediately go to would be the man's cock. God, he was such a _beautiful _but totally, absolutely _dangerous_ man_. _Just the thought of being held in that man's arms again – but this time in a _horizontal_ position – made his entire body thrum. No one had ever made him feel quite this way before; he only hoped Brian's comments from earlier this evening were honest, because if he gave in to this man's predatory pursuit only to be thrown away after one, single, fantastic, albeit mind-blowing fuck, he would be devastated. He never allowed a man to get that close unless he knew they both cared about more than just the sex. Was it just possible that Brian _did_ feel the same way as he did?

He glanced over at the timer; 10 more minutes to go before dinner was ready. Ten more minutes to somehow get his heart back down to a normal rhythm and his body to calm itself before he gave his extreme desire for this man away. Or had he somehow already done that simply by looking at him earlier? Brian had to have known how he would react to seeing him dressed the way he was – or should he say _undressed_. In an attempt to get his mind – and his _body_ – off a certain brunet in the other room, Justin busied himself locating the silverware and plates to set the table.

Searching in the upper cabinets near the stove, he finally located the wine and drinking glasses. Getting two wine goblets down and a plastic glass for Gus, he located the wine bottle and jug of grape juice in the refrigerator; he immediately opened the wine bottle and poured a generous amount into his glass and swallowed it in three gulps – something told him he was going to need more than one glass before the night was over. A few minutes later, he felt a slight, warm buzz as the effects of the alcohol blessedly started to kick in; he was thankful that the liquid not only had a somewhat sedative effect on his psyche, but also a certain part of his anatomy because he jumped a few seconds later when he heard the timer go off on top of the stove signaling that their dinner was ready.

A small, lanky blur came bursting through the living room just as Justin set the food on the table, out of breath but full of excitement. "I heard the bell!" Gus cried, running full steam for the table. "Is dinner ready? Dino and I are so _hungry_ we could eat a dinosaur!" Gus promptly pulled out a chair at the side of the table and plopped down, looking as if this was the chair he sat in every day for meals; Justin figured it probably was, because he noticed this chair was different than the others in style and was slightly higher than the rest without actually being an official _highchair_; after all, a boy of Gus' age couldn't be seen sitting in a childish high chair.

Justin and Brian exchanged a look of amusement between themselves but didn't think to correct Gus about the inappropriateness of a dinosaur eating _another _dinosaur before Brian looked around the table set with their meal and asked the blond, "What? No _BREAD, Doughboy_? I'm appalled!"

Justin retorted, "I'm a _cake designer, _NOT a baker," as he pulled out a chair opposite Brian's son and sat down.

"Daddy, what's a pauled?" Gus asked curiously as he watched the exchange between his father and his new-found friend. Justin and his daddy seemed to like big words but he was still enjoying their conversation. He just couldn't tell if they liked each other or hated each other; he simply decided that adults could be very confusing.

Brian smirked. "It's not a _thing_, Sonny Boy, it's a feeling. Like you can't believe that someone who likes to play with flour all the time for a living doesn't know you're supposed to eat _bread_ with your meal," he told his son helpfully, who nodded his agreement; after all, his father was _always_ right.

Justin glared at him as Gus responded promptly, "I know where the _bread _is, Daddy." He pointed to a drawer over by the refrigerator; Brian smiled at his son and walked over to a narrow drawer and opened it to locate a package of soft, pre-cooked rolls. "I've got such a _smart son_," he praised the little boy, who beamed at the compliment as Brian brought the bag of rolls over to the table and placed them in the middle. "I hope it won't offend your sensibilities if we just keep them in the bag," he said to Justin. "I _so_ hate to dirty up a good plate for nothing."

Justin smiled back at him prettily. "Not at all, _Mr. Kinney_. I can eat like a peasant just like the best of them." He reached in to take one of the rolls out and placed in at the side of his plate in confirmation. He was currently feeling pretty comfortable with himself after having a glass of wine before dinner; the slightly anesthetic buzz from the alcohol had made his body relax and his mind at ease. For perhaps the first time that night, he was beginning to feel confident that he could handle anything that Brian threw his way, clothes or not.

His confidence, however, slightly faltered as Brian chose to sit his long, lanky, mostly unclad body in a chair right next to his rather than sitting in the one at the head of the table that was directly between his chair and Gus'. Brian pulled the chair out and sat down in it in one smooth motion, deliberating scooting his seat closer to Justin's so that their two legs were almost touching side by side under the table. Just like before, Justin could actually feel the body heat coming off the brunet's warm skin as the brunet sat way too close for comfort to him; and again, just like before and to Justin's annoyance, Brian was having the same effect on his body as before. His heart was beginning to race and his body was beginning to react to the glorious sight of so much uncovered, tan, toned flesh exposed so delightfully to his gaze and at such a close proximity. He noticed his hand was shaking as he scooped up some of the baked ziti and scalloped potato casserole onto his place and picked up a bite of the food to eat.

"I hope we're going to have some _dessert_ after dinner," Brian told his dinner companion huskily; he noticed with smug satisfaction that Justin promptly dropped his fork back onto his plate as it slipped from his grasp.

"Yeah – dessert!" Gus cried out enthusiastically. "That's my _favorite_ part!" he told the couple, totally oblivious to the seduction being attempted across the table by his father.

Brian looked over at Justin intently as he answered in a low drawl, "Yeah, Sonny Boy…_mine too_." He watched as Justin's face turn deep pink at the overt, sexy tone of his voice. "Just what _is_ for dessert, _Doughboy_?" Brian asked innocently, his tongue coming out to lick his dry lips slightly. Just the thought of what might HE would like for dessert later was making him horny as hell; he couldn't wait to gulp down the main course so they could get on to the most pleasurable part of their dinner – just the two of them. At the moment, however, his mind was on anything BUT food. He found that he couldn't keep his eyes off the pale, smooth skin of his companion's face or the long eyelashes that draped over a pair of ice-blue, sapphire eyes that were presently looking nervously down at his plate – anywhere but back at HIM. And those lips – God, how he wanted to suck on that bottom lip until it fucking _bled_ from his worship of them….

"Yeah, Jus'n…what's for dessert?" Gus asked innocently in his child-like voice. Despite Justin's face flushing and his body quickly going into horny overdrive, he had to laugh slightly at his two dinner companions; both so much alike in many ways but when it came to their own _version_ of dessert, polar opposites. He managed to squeak out a reply to Gus of "Boston Cream Pie" just before he jumped when he felt a hand snake over and firmly squeeze his cock possessively.

As Brian snickered, Justin threw a quick glare at him; fortunately, Gus simply mistook Justin's response as an enthusiastic agreement with him over the joys of dessert. "Goodie! I _like cream pie! _Just what IS cream pie, Daddy?"

_Oh, no,_ Justin groaned silently, as Brian chuckled at his discomfort. "Oh…..that's the _very BEST _kind of pie, Sonny Boy," Brian assured him as he winked at Justin playfully. "And I'm sure Justin makes them _extremely tasty_," he drawled, making no mistake as to just what _type_ of cream pie the man had in mind.

_Damn him_, Justin thought, as his cock hardened even more. This dinner was quickly becoming the longest dinner in history. And to think he had thought he would be relatively safe with Brian as long as his son was around. Apparently the man could make eating with a _nun_ seductive – of course, if Brian WAS having dinner with a nun, he'd probably locate a priest somewhere so he could at least get in a good fuck afterward.

Justin smacked Brian's hand under the table as the brunet started to run his long fingers back and forth, up and down, higher and higher on his thigh as he crept closer and closer again to his intended target. "Will you _stop that?"_ Justin hissed at him under his breath.

Brian leaned over to whisper in his ear as Gus stared at them curiously, his mouth full of a big bite of scalloped potato, "I saw you shivering, so I just thought I would _warm you up_." Justin's head jerked as the brunet unexpectedly nipped the fleshy, tender part of his upper earlobe and then gave it a soothing lick.

"How come you're not eating, Daddy?" Gus asked his father with concern; he hadn't noticed him taking a bite of _anything _since they had sat down for dinner. "Aren't you hungry?"

Brian chuckled as Justin's face flushed an even darker shade of pink; he hadn't this much fun since he had glued his teacher's ass to the toilet seat in school. But this occasion was promising to be much more _stimulating_ than that situation had been. "Oh, I'm _starved_, Sonny Boy," he assured his son, who looked at him perplexed. That answer didn't gel with his father's present actions at all. He always thought when you were really hungry, you ATE. "I guess I'm just too _excited _to eat right now, though," he elaborated.

Justin couldn't look at his dining companion at the moment; he was already horny as hell, and if he risked even one quick glance at the man still whispering in his ear in that sexy tone of voice and sitting there almost naked as the day was long, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions. And the man's _SON _wasn't helping at all. When was the boy's bedtime again?

"You still need to eat, Daddy," Gus gently chided his father sensibly. "Remember, Mommy says it makes you grow up big and strong," he preached.

"Well, Justin's mom must have told him the same thing, Sonny Boy, because he's certainly grown up _big and hard…..…_uh, I mean _strong_," he corrected himself; as Justin finally risked a quick glance at the brunet, he noticed to his annoyance that the man was smirking at him just before he winked again and curled his lips under; the man was having way too much fun at his expense.

He closed his eyes, hoping that perhaps this was all just a weird sort of Pee Wee Herman type of dream; his eyes flew open, however, as he felt the button snap open on the fly of his jeans and the zipper begin to be skillfully pulled down.

He almost fell as he leaped up from his chair and scooted it back, hastily buttoning his jeans back together. "Uh…..I think it's almost time for dessert," he announced breathlessly, picking up his mostly uneaten plate of food and carrying it over to the kitchen to scrape the remainder of his dinner into the trash; there was no way he could even think about eating at the moment; thanks to his tormentor, his stomach was churning with a fucking flock of butterflies presently.

"Yeah…." He heard a sexy growl coming from the table. "I think it's definitely time for _dessert_, too." Justin closed his eyes as he felt his face flushing with heat; he braced his hands against the kitchen sink in a feeble attempt to calm himself down. He began to regret the now _three _glasses of wine he had had in the last hour; he may have thought the buzz would relax him, but somehow his body had definitely woken up during dinner; unfortunately, he was beginning to think the liquor may have served just to cloud his judgment because he was suddenly having problems thinking clearly. Of course, it couldn't have _anything_ to do with a certain brunet who was having way too much fun tonight, now could it?

"I'm ready for dessert!" Justin heard Gus declaring cheerily. "Where _is _it?" Justin pulse finally slowed enough for him to turn around to address his littlest dinner companion, who was oblivious to the sexual melodrama playing out right in front of his eyes. He noticed Gus looking around the room, apparently searching for the Boston cream pie Justin had made. He smiled at the boy's eyes that were lit up with the thought of his impending dessert; Gus' dad simply continued to sit there, his chair leaning back as he watched Justin's continuing squirming at his expense with utter amusement.

Intentionally ignoring the smug look of the _older child_ in the room, Justin located the smaller dessert plates in a top cupboard and placed them on the counter while he went to retrieve the chilled pie from the refrigerator. He quickly cut three pieces of the pie and, placing them on the plates, carried them over to his dining companions. Gus' eyes lit up as he saw the thick slice topped with a generous, fluffy meringue icing. He eagerly picked up his fork and began to attack the pie; Justin didn't have to ask him if he liked it, because in short order the little boy had almost half of the slice eaten and hadn't said a word the entire time. Justin was silently grateful for the brief interlude; a busy, happy Gus who was too busy eating to say anything was a busy, happy Gus who wouldn't give his father any more unintended _innuendoes_ to use against HIM.

He somewhat warily placed a slice of the pie in front of Brian before he sat down again in his original chair to take a small stab at his own piece. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Brian didn't move to pick up his fork and sample the pie; he just sat there staring at him while he tried, self-consciously, to eat his own piece. Curiosity finally got the better of him, and he turned to ask the other man, "Why aren't you eating your dessert?"

Brian smirked. "I never eat carbs after 7:00," he told him; his eyes never leaving the blond's face.

"But, Daddy," Gus finally interjected, having finished all of his pie now, "I thought you said it was _time for dessert_," he repeated faithfully.

Justin was about to attempt to take another bite of his pie when Gus' father answered gutturally, "I did, Sonny Boy. I just prefer the _high protein_ kind of dessert."

_OH, God._ The bite of dessert he was about to take hung vicariously on Justin's fork and it wobbled in the air in front of his lips as Brian's husky statement washed over him. Like a man suffering from palsy, he slowly managed to put his fork back down on the plate, too afraid to try and eat for fear the food would wind up now in his lap instead.

Brian chuckled; he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Well, maybe not _quite_ enjoying himself thoroughly; he was planning on THAT particular activity shortly – as soon as a certain little boy went to bed. He smiled broadly as he looked up at the kitchen clock over the sink to see that it was 8:55. _Tick, tick, tick, Doughboy. It's almost time for MY dessert now._

"Oh, look, Sonny Boy – it's bedtime for you and Dino," he announced much too cheerfully for Justin's sake; the man was practically _drooling_ at the thought.

"He's got five more minutes," Justin quickly volunteered, receiving a glare from the brunet. "Don't hurry him up," he told the boy's father. "His food needs time to digest."

Brian stood up as he scooted his chair back from the table; Justin prayed that the man's towel, which was hanging even more precariously low on his hips now, would somehow stay up as he walked over to Gus' chair and pushed it back slowly. "His food can _digest_ while he's getting his pajamas on," he told his son somewhat sternly, leaving no question that it was definitely time for bed – for ALL of them. Before Gus could begin to utter a protest, he had swiftly picked up the little boy and his cherished Dino from the table and placed him in his arms to carry him upstairs.

"But, Daddy….." Gus finally managed to sputter out.

"No, Sonny Boy," Brian responded firmly. "Your mommies said your bedtime was 9:00 and it's almost 9:00 now….time for all good little boys to be in bed," he told his son, but he was looking at Justin the entire time, his lusty expression leaving no room for misinterpretation, nor any question as to what his intentions were going to be very shortly. The intense, predatory look he was reserving for his _dessert_ left Justin's face once more flushing with embarrassment and his pulse beginning to skyrocket again, wine or not.

"Say goodbye to Justin," he told his son. "You'll see him again soon, I'm sure," he assured him, turning to gaze tenderly at his son now with a smile. He leaned down to kiss the little boy's forehead as he kept his arms wrapped protectively around the boy's slim waist.

Resigned to his plight, Gus gave a little wave of his hand, which was still clutching his precious Dimetrodon, Dino, tightly. "'Night, Jus'n," Gus called out; his body jiggled slightly up and down as Brian turned to carry him up the steps rather impatiently.

Justin responded fondly with a smile, "Good night, Buddy. Sweet dreams."

Just before he reached the first step, Brian turned to look one more time at the blond artist who was causing his pulse to speed up and his entire body to tingle with want; he noticed him sitting paralyzed at the table staring back at him like a rabbit caught in a steel trap. He raised one eyebrow in a silent challenge before he finally drawled, "Don't go anywhere, _Doughboy_. When I come back down, I'll be ready for my own sweet _dessert_."


	12. Chapter 12: Cravings for Cream Pie

After Brian and Gus left the room, Justin sat there in his chair paralyzed by what had just transpired; he exhaled a deep, ragged breath through his lips as his heart continued to pound unabated. A ridiculous thought filtered through his mind that maybe he was some unwitting participant in a reality show called _Fight or Flight, _because at the moment his good and bad Justins had reared their ugly heads once again and they were fighting over whether he should stay and probably have the most exciting, mind-blowing fuck of his life or whether he should take the momentary time alone that had been given him and get the hell out of there. The man was so _exasperating_; bigger than life one minute – full of cocky, sexual bravado and innuendo – and then the next minute soft and tender when he was with his son. Would the real Brian Kinney _please_ stand up?

Okay – bad analogy, because all Justin could think about then was Brian standing up too abruptly and the towel he was still vicariously wearing falling unhindered down onto the floor, leaving nothing between them but the man's glorious, sensual body and Justin's quickly faltering reserve and fertile imagination. Why was he fighting this, anyway? Oh, yeah – something about dignity and self-worth. But the more he was _exposed_ to this man – and _exposed_ was definitely the right word – the more his resistance was failing. He felt like a twig trying to stand upright in the face of a hurricane – Hurricane Brian. And the hurricane would be blowing downstairs any moment – what was he going to _do?_

"Did your brush your teeth, Gus?" his father asked him as the little boy walked out of the bathroom with Dino still firmly clutched in his hand. Brian laughed as his son nodded his head, smiled and bared his teeth to display sparkles of blue toothpaste still glued to parts of his teeth.

"Yeah, I see that you _did, _Sonny Boy," he said, reaching out to rub the boy's soft brown hair affectionately. He walked over to the nearby dresser and opened the top drawer. "Which pajamas do you want to wear to bed?" he asked his son, who walked over to stand next to him to examine the drawer's contents. The quicker he got his son dressed for bed, the quicker he could get someone else downstairs _undressed for bed._ Thinking about that little pleasure, he somewhat impatiently repeated to his son softly, "Which _ones_, Gus?"

"I want my dinosaur pajamas, Daddy," Gus finally replied, shuffling lightly up and down on his toes next to his father.

Of course, Brian thought – what else coming from a boy who presently ate, talked, and played with nothing BUT dinosaurs lately? He frowned, however, as he searched for the requested sleepwear; he could see several sets of pajamas neatly lined up in the drawer but no dinosaur pajamas. "I don't see them, Gus," he told the little boy. "Why don't we put on the Spiderman ones instead?" he asked him hopefully.

Gus pursed his lips in disdain. "NO, Daddy – I don't _like_ those. I want the ones with the stegosaurus on them."

Brian rolled his eyes in frustration, now almost urgently sorting through the neat stacks of clothes like he was at a bargain basement sale; when he couldn't find the set that Gus wanted, he promptly threw them disgustedly back into the drawer in a heap of disarray. "Well, then, how about the Batman pajamas, Gus?" He held up a black and yellow themed pajama top with the superhero's logo printed on them. "These are really neat, aren't they?" Brian prompted him with anticipation, trying to interject some excitement into his voice; _come on, Sonny Boy, help me OUT here._ _It's DADDY'S bedtime, too._

But his son was not to be placated; he stomped his foot slightly as he replied stubbornly, "Those are _ugly_, Daddy. I can't go to bed until I get what I _want_!"

Brian smirked. _That makes TWO of us, Sonny Boy. _Unfortunately for Brian, however, he couldn't get what HE wanted until he located what his SON wanted, which to his utter annoyance was nowhere to be found. He shut the top drawer just a little too forcefully, immediately pasting a sheepish look on his face as he noticed his son's startled reaction to the noise. He opened the other three dresser drawers more gingerly, hoping the elusive dinosaur pajamas would be in one of them, only to be thwarted each time.

Sighing, he fingered his hands through his hair briefly as he thought furiously. _Where could the damn pajamas BE?_ Surely, his son could be reasonable, couldn't he? He squatted down so he could be face to face with the miniature version of himself and said, "Gus, I can't _find_ the dinosaur pajamas, and your mommies already told Justin you had to be in bed by 9:00." Brian glanced up at the clock, noting with aggravation that it was already 9:15, fifteen minutes less time that he could be presently spending downstairs with his _own_ little bed companion. "I'm sure they're here somewhere, but for tonight you'll just have to wear some_ other_ pair, okay? Your mommies can find them for you tomorrow when you come to spend the night with me." He pasted on the most persuasive smile and puppy-dog-eyed look he could come up with, fervently hoping it would be sufficient to get his son to wear something else just for tonight; the same look always seemed to work when _Gus_ did it to HIM. He soon found out, however, that it wasn't actually necessary.

"Silly Daddy," Gus told his father smiling. "My dinosaur pajamas aren't in the dresser. You took them out of the dryer when we put your wet clothes in there," he helpfully pointed out.

Brian stared in disbelief at his son as if the boy had horns growing out of his head; maybe he actually _did_ – the _little devil_. He suddenly realized his son was right – he _did_ remember taking a small load of clothes out of the dryer before Gus threw his own wet clothes in there; he just hadn't recalled what they _were_. "Why didn't you tell me _that_ to begin with, Sonny Boy?" he said, somewhat exasperated.

"You didn't _ask me_, Daddy," Gus told him simply as if it was the most natural answer in the world.

Brian shook his head, wondering what had possessed him to agree to father this precocious model of himself. _You didn't ASK me, Daddy_, he says. "You and Dino stay right there," he told his son firmly, pointing his finger at them in emphasis. "I'll be right back."

"Okay, Daddy," Gus answered readily, now that the case of the missing dinosaur pajamas had been solved; as Brian slowly backed out of the room he kept his eyes on his son who was waving his favorite toy up and down in the air as if the dinosaur was wreaking havoc on some unseen prey; he emitted growling noises as his arm drew imaginary circles in the air.

Brian hurried over to the laundry room and grabbed the boy's favorite pajamas from atop the dryer and rushed back to Gus' bedroom. "Okay, Gus, here we are," he announced triumphantly. He scooped his son up and dropped him tenderly onto the bed to hurriedly begin undressing him. Fortunately, by sitting on the side of the bed he was able to change his son into his pajamas in fairly short order once he had found the preferred sleepwear, despite Gus still clinging to Dino; fortunately for Brian, the pajama sleeves were loose fitting and could successfully be pulled down over a hand still clutching a spiky toy dinosaur firmly in its grip.

"Okay, Sonny Boy, here you go," Brian told him, smiling as he pulled the sheet and light blanket out from under the small body to place Gus' head on his pillow and the rest of him under the covers. He placed a kiss on his forehead before murmuring, "Sweet Dreams, Gus." The boy's bright hazel eyes stared back at his father thoughtfully as Brian slowly rose from the bed and turned on the softly-lit nightstand lamp nearby. His task finally accomplished, he sighed with relief and quietly turned to go just as he heard a little voice saying plaintively, "Daddy…read me a story."

Brian groaned as he stopped dead in his tracks; _not NOW, Sonny Boy….please._ He composed his face into a neutral expression before he turned around to face his son and reply a little sternly, "Gus…..it's almost 9:30 now – 30 minutes past your bedtime. You need to go to sleep, little man."

"But Daddy, one of my mommies always reads me a story before I go to bed. I can't go to sleep until I hear a story. _Please, Daddy? PLEASE_?" he beseeched his father, the anticipation and yearning clearly heard in the soft voice as his hazel eyes looked at Brian wide and imploringly. _No fair, Sonny Boy – there's that look I was just talking about that I can't say NO to. _

Brian grimaced; did his son realize what he was _doing_ to him? Yes and no, he finally decided. His son knew just what to do and how to look to get his way, but he obviously did NOT realize what he was impeding here – possibly the most exciting fuck Brian Kinney would ever experience; he only hoped Justin was still waiting for him downstairs. A flash of worry crossed his face as he remembered he and his son had been upstairs for half an hour now – was Justin even still _waiting _for him? Torn between wanting to please his son and wanting to please _himself_, he sighed as his fatherly instincts took over and he grudgingly trudged back over to the bed to reach over to the nightstand and pick up a book lying on top of it entitled: _Dinosaurs Come Alive! _"Is this the book you want me to read?" the brunet asked his son, who nodded excitedly.

Brian sat with his back to the headboard as Gus' head lay on the pillow listening to his father's smooth-sounding, soothing voice, his empty hand reaching out after a few minutes to grasp his father's knee subconsciously. With his free hand, Brian blanketed the little boy's hand with his own larger one as he continued to read to Gus about the exploits of the fabled dinosaurs of prehistoric times. As he noticed his little boy's eyelids finally drooping after a few minutes and a yawn appearing, Brian inexplicably felt a tug at his heart before he softly placed the book back down on the nightstand and gave his son another gentle kiss on the cheek before he slowly rose once again from the bed. He stood for a few seconds to listen to his son's soft, even breathing and watch him snuggle up against his cherished toy before Brian quietly turned and exited the bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar for his son just in case he should need him.

* * *

Justin had sat in his chair, full of nervous energy, for several minutes as he debated what to do. As time marched on, however, he found that he needed something both to occupy his mind as well as his hands, so he finally decided to get up and make himself useful by washing the dishes from their meal. As he stood in front of the kitchen sink, swishing the bubbly water around a dinner plate, his thoughts were preoccupied by the larger-than-life man currently upstairs with Gus. His body had thankfully calmed down and his pulse had slowed since Brian had left him alone, but he knew one look at that long, tall drink of sensuality and he would be lost again. He could easily tell why Brian's reputation had preceded him – he almost oozed sex appeal, from his dark, sensual, almost foreboding good looks to the swagger in his walk that seemed to say _I'm the best fuck you're ever going to have, and you KNOW it. _Even though Justin should have been annoyed by the man's confident, smug manner, he had to grudgingly admit that he found his attitude strangely compelling and far too overpowering to resist for long. He knew no matter what was about to happen, though, he was somehow incapable of separating himself from the temptation about to re-enter his personal space.

As if the man were reading his thoughts, he heard a low, deep voice behind him drawling, "I hope you didn't start_ dessert_ without me." Justin froze, his back to the other man as he grasped the front of the counter tightly; he was afraid to face the brunet just yet, but he kept hoping for his own sanity that surely by now Brian's clothes were dry and he had gotten dressed.

Standing behind the artist and still dressed provocatively only in the towel, Brian was enormously relieved as well as pleased to see that Justin had, indeed, elected to wait for him; he could see the artist's shoulders rise and fall as he heard a soft breath being exhaled, an indication that someone was nervous. Brian licked his lips with anticipation and wetted them as his body reacted to the power he was having over this beautiful, fiery blond; the _de-flouring_ of this delectable little dish was going to be _SO exquisite. FINALLY_, he silently crowed in triumph.

As Justin's back remained turned rigidly away from him, he slowly swaggered up to his _dessert_ and placed both of his long arms to either side of the other man to trap his slim body against the sink; he purposely pushed his body firmly against the blond, not afraid to let him know in no uncertain terms that he wanted him – _badly_. "I believe I was just about to sample your _cream cake_," he purred in the other man's ear as his face nuzzled against the soft, pale cheek of his own little _Doughboy_ like a horny kitten rubbing wantonly against someone's leg. He heard Justin groan involuntarily and smiled, enormously delighted to find that his cock fit so perfectly against the shorter man's butt cheeks. If they didn't move to some place more comfortable very soon, he wasn't going to care – he would just yank the man's pants down over that adorable, oh-so-delectable bubble butt and down those pale, slender legs to fuck the man senseless right there. As he felt Justin's entire body shiver in pleasurable torment, he placed a small nip on the man's delicate upper ear lobe and whispered, "I'll take you right here and now if you want. I much prefer the couch – but it's _your choice_," he drawled sexily. "You'd better decide NOW, though" he warned him sensually, his breath coming out winded from his desire; he had never wanted someone as badly as he wanted this man right now – his mouth was dry with want and he knew this man was a thirst he had to quench _repeatedly._

Justin closed his eyes in response to a flood of emotions overwhelming him at the moment; he had never come across someone who could skillfully play his body and affect his emotions the way _this_ man did. From the second Brian's long, lanky frame had come into contact with his, his cock had immediately begun to harden and his face had flushed with the heat radiating from the flood of emotions coursing through him. With both excitement as well as trepidation, he had instantly noticed that Brian's arms were _bare_, which could only mean one thing: he still didn't have his shirt on. _What else was he NOT wearing_? And the _VOICE_ – _my God_. It was low, rumbling, and full of danger, almost a predatory growl of sexuality. This man wasn't afraid to tell him what he wanted and to go _after _it. If had had any thought before to putting any distance between him and this man for his own safety, he was far past that point now. Something was going to reach a _head_ soon – figuratively as well as literally.

He gasped and his breath left him as he felt a hand grasp his wrist and twirl him around quickly to face the brunet, who expertly held him now in his arms; as Brian wrapped his hands possessively around his back, he felt his knees began to weaken at the sight of the muscled, tan stomach and lean, bare arms gripping him tightly; the thought that there was nothing underneath the blue towel Brian was still wearing made him horny as hell. As he slowly dared to raise his eyes to gaze into the hazel ones darkened with flashes of gold, he held his breath at the look of extreme lust radiating back at him from Brian's intense stare. He was absolutely hypnotized by the brunet's eyes which practically bore into him as Brian memorized every nuance of his face. He licked his own lips nervously, a pink tongue quickly darting out to moisten them. He barely had time to retract it back into his mouth before Brian roughly melded his body to his and roughly smashed their lips together to bend him back against the hard, cold sink.

Brian was in sensory heaven. Ever since their last kiss, he had been craving this man's sweet taste again; now as he finally had the chance to experience it once more, he found that it was even more intoxicating than he remembered. His hand came up to brush against the soft, silky blond hair at his Doughboy's neck; he gripped the back of Justin's head firmly to push their lips even more impossibly closer together as he twisted his head for a deeper penetration; he was rewarded with a involuntary moan of pleasure from the blond's soft, plump lips, almost like a humming noise.

After several seconds, the two finally broke for oxygen, heaving chests joining in a sensual, rhythmic harmony as hearts beat rapidly in time together. Brian reached his hand back around to cup the pale chin, ordering the blond in a soft, commanding voice dripping with desire, "_Touch me, Justin_."

Justin swallowed hard; he knew one touch of that lean, chiseled chest and he would be lost for good. But he _also_ knew somehow he was powerless to refuse; this moment had been ordained from the first second they had met. "Brian," he whispered shakily, his voice a husky refrain of want as he almost shyly reached out a hand toward him.

"Yes," Brian urged him, as Justin tentatively placed a slender hand on his chest, his long-tapered fingers lightly stroking a trail across the hot, sweaty skin. He marveled at the firm flesh that rippled at his touch, amazed he could have such an effect on this magnificent man. Stoked by the response, he feathered his hand over Brian's left breast, rolling his palm over the nipple just to see it instantly harden and become a wrinkled pebble at his touch; his heart pounded at his boldness and at the sound of Brian groaning in desire – desire for _him_.

He slowly raised his eyes again to look at Brian when he felt the brunet still his roaming hand by curling his own on top of his. His body trembled at the look of raw, dark lust in the large, expressive eyes as Brian whispered, "You didn't answer my question, _Justin_. Here or the couch?"

Justin swallowed, trying to moisten his quickly-drying mouth as his brain tried to decipher what Brian had just asked him. He finally managed to whisper one word, "Couch," but it was all Brian needed to hear. Brian smiled triumphantly as he began to pull Justin slowly but determinedly along with him toward the living room, his lips assaulting his eyes, his cheeks, his ears, his neck, and finally his lips once again as they approached the living room.

Justin couldn't look away even if he wanted to as Brian came to a stop in front of their makeshift bed; his eyes widened with the knowledge of what was about to happen and his breath hitched in his throat as the brunet released his hold on his wrists, smirked confidently and slowly undid the towel now twisted loosely around his hips; as the fabric fell to the floor unnoticed and forgotten in a heap, the brown thatch of curly hair Justin could previously see tantalizingly peeking out of the temporary covering abruptly paled in comparison to the rest of Brian that was now gloriously revealed in totality: narrow, perfectly formed, toned hips, a slim waist, long, lean legs, and most awe-inspiring of all, a hard, thick, long and luscious cock; a cock that was already beginning to leak with the overt signs of a desperate desire needing to be satisfied immediately.

Brian smiled wickedly, smugly pleased to see the blond's reaction to his unveiling. As satisfying as it was to see Justin's response to his body, however, it was minor compared to what he was about to _finally _get to do – it was time for him to claim his prize and savor his dessert. As Justin stood there, seemingly paralyzed by his own desire, Brian drawled, "Time to give me a _taste, _Doughboy," before he grasped the other man's shirt front and roughly pulled him toward him; as he again smashed their lips together to kiss Justin deeply, he began to nimbly unbutton the buttons at the top of Justin's shirt. As the top of the blond's chest was partially exposed, Brian anxiously snaked his hands through the parted opening to get a brief preview of what was to come; he was awed by how soft and smooth the flesh was just underneath the blond's neck. Impatient to see what the rest of the skin felt like, he removed his hands just long enough to reach down and pull Justin's shirt up to prepare to pull it over his head and discard the troublesome impediment to his objective. As he reluctantly broke their kiss, he was pleased to see that Justin willingly lifted his hands up to help remove the offending piece of clothing.

Justin blushed under Brian's intense scrutiny; he noticed the hazel eyes darkening even further as Brian hungrily leered at his pale, smooth chest. He watched, transfixed, as Brian eyes raked downward as he confidently moved to unbutton his pants; this time there were thankfully no small, prying eyes to impede his goal.

The blond's pants finally unbuttoned and unzipped at last, Brian was surprised to see his hands shaking as he paused momentarily to appreciate the tasty dish he was about to enjoy before kneeling to eagerly grasp the younger man's waistband and slowly pull the trousers and underwear down together, revealing a surprisingly large, thick cock that was standing just as erect as Brian's. He licked his lips in barely-controlled anticipation as he heard Justin's ragged breathing above him.

As some pre-cum slowly, temptingly dribbled from the head, Brian knew he had to have a little taste. He drew his eyes upward slowly to meet intense blue ones before he lowered his head, grasped the smooth organ with one skilled hand, and opened his lips for a taste of heaven.

Justin groaned loudly and reeled from the sensation of Brian's lips and hand playing him like a skilled musician; even though it was their first time, the man somehow knew just what to do to make him dizzy with need. His legs were threatening to buckle out from under him at the expertise of Brian's sensual assault until just at the last possible second, he suddenly felt the abrupt release of his cock from his talented torturer. He bit back a moan of disappointment as Brian quickly stood up and smashed his lips once again against his mouth as he tasted himself in the deep, probing kiss.

Without breaking their lip lock, Brian somehow managed to push Justin down onto the couch as he plundered the blond's mouth repeatedly; his skilled hands were roaming everywhere he could reach – stroking him up and down his shoulders, rubbing circles on his hardening nipples, caressing his slim waist. Several minutes passed before their lips broke apart, Brian's full body weight pressing down on him and making him a willing captive. "I _want you_," Brian growled huskily to him in his ear. "_NOW," _he demanded as he reached down on the floor to pick up a tube of lube and a condom that had somehow, miraculously appeared.

Justin didn't have time to think about how he had managed it; he was too busy reeling from the exquisite feeling of Brian writhing against his body; each time their cocks rubbed together, it was like an electrical, shocking current of exhilarating desire coursed through him. They were quickly building up to a crescendo of pleasure that could only be satiated by one action: the joining of their two bodies together.

Brian impatiently sheathed his cock and slathered the lube on the shaft. He was preparing to plunge an exploratory finger into Justin's hole just as he distinctly heard a soft voice calling from down the steps. "Daddy? Where _are _you? I'm _thirsty._"

Brian let out a loud groan of disbelief. _No fucking way. NOT NOW, Sonny Boy!_ Maybe if he ignored Gus, he would give up and go back to bed. This couldn't be happening – not after he had waited so long for this moment. Not after he had been given just a sample of the paradise he was about to dive into for the first time.

Whether he could ignore his son's plaintive cry for help quickly became a moot point, however, because he felt the slender body underneath him stiffen in alarm at the sound of Gus' voice. "Brian," Justin huffed out breathlessly. "We can't _do_ this. Not _here_. I….we can't….we can't do _this_ with Gus upstairs."

Brian groaned and slumped against Justin's soft, warm, oh-so-inviting body. The body he was about to taste fully for the first time. The body he had been _craving_ from the instant they had met. The body he fucking _had to have_. It just wasn't FAIR. Brian Kinney always got what he wanted, and what he wanted was turning him down – AGAIN.

"Daddy?" he heard more loudly and insistently this time. "I need a DRINK. And I have to go to the bathroom. Daddy, where ARE you?"

Justin's heart began to pound with fear this time as he distinctly heard soft patter-pitters quickly coming down the steps now. "Brian!" he whispered urgently. "Get UP!"

"That's what I've been TRYING TO DO!" he snarled in irritation and frustration, as he finally with great reluctance rose up on his elbows and twisted his body to stand up next to the couch. Snatching the previously-discarded towel somewhat angrily from the floor, he roughly tied it around his waist and threw a nearby blanket over Justin just before his son came bounding into the room, Dino once again held firmly in his hand. Gus stood at the entrance to the living room, one small hand on his hip as he asked somewhat testily, "Didn't you _hear_ me, Daddy?" He looked at Justin lying on the couch, covered from the shoulders down with the lightweight throw his mommies normally slung over the back and asked curiously, "Is Justin spending the night here, too?"

"Uh, no, Sonny Boy, Justin just got a little _cold_," he answered smoothly as Justin's face flushed with embarrassment. The blond couldn't believe he had almost fucked with Brian on Mel and Lindsey's couch; the result of their bonding would have no doubt created a lot of embarrassing explanations afterward. For that he was thankful in a way that Gus had stopped them when he did; his timely interruption would have been about the ONLY thing that would have prevented the inevitable. Despite his relief, however, about Gus' timing, he was mortified to find that thanks to Brian's expert ministrations a few minutes earlier his cock was still hard as a rock and his body continued to thrum with unsatisfied desire.

"Daddy! I need a _drink_ and I need to use the bathroom," Gus repeated impatiently, as he now bounced up and down on each leg to emphasize the urgency.

Brian rubbed his hand across his face in unfulfilled longing; his cock was still standing erect from the stimulating foreplay with his own personal Doughboy and he was horny as hell. Sighing loudly at the unbelievable timing of his well-intentioned son, he looked over longingly at Justin before turning back around to take his son's hand. "Okay, Gus – I'm coming." He allowed himself to be pulled back upstairs to the bathroom to help his son quickly so he could hopefully get back downstairs and resume his _dessert_ _sampling_.

A few gulps of water and a piss later, Gus was finally back in bed and to Brian's great relief quickly closing his eyes to prepare to resume his sleep as the brunet gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and rushed back downstairs in hopes of reuniting with Justin. To his profound disappointment, however, when he returned to the living room it was to find the couch empty and the house quiet. All that remained was the throw, now neatly folded and placed back on the rear of the couch as if their mind blowing adventure had never occurred.


	13. Chapter 13: Tomorrow Night, Doughboy!

_Cakes of Art – Next Day – Sunday Noon_

Justin stood back to study his current "work of art." The client, a bride-to-be who was apparently a bit of a daredevil in her spare time, had requested a wedding cake depicting one of her and her fiancé's favorite activities, sky-diving of all things. Now it was up to him to figure out how to incorporate that into a wedding cake. After several preliminary sketches, he had finally settled upon creating a cake featuring the bride descending from on top of a mountain wearing a skydiving jumpsuit and a parachute as she jumped into the outstretched hands below of her soon-to-be-husband; sort of a _leaping into matrimony _theme. The only problem was, as he studied the multi-tiered, buttercream cake he had created as the base, he couldn't quite figure out how to attach the bride and her parachute to the cake so she would seem to be free-standing during the motion sequence of her "fall." "Maybe I should have gone to _engineering school_ instead," he muttered to himself as he pulled on his hair absentmindedly while he continued to search for a solution to his problem.

"What was that, Baby?" he heard Em ask from the showroom area nearby. "Did you say something?" He popped his head in to peer over at his friend. He noticed with some curiosity that Justin seemed a little more agitated than normal; he was lightly bouncing up and down on his feet and his body language was practically broadcasting flashes of nervous energy.

Justin scowled in irritation. "I'm just trying to figure out how to transfer this idea in my head from the sketchpad into a workable design." He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "Why can't I just have a client who needs a cake that tastes good and doesn't care if it jumps, flies, runs, or makes noise?"

Emmett smiled compassionately. "Because, Sweetie, if you _did_, it would just be a great-tasting wedding cake, not a work of art. That's what separates you from the rest of the _run-of-the-mill_ cake designers," he pointed out. He slowly approached the cake in question; Justin was so meticulous when he came to implementing the designs for his cake that he would get frustrated when he couldn't figure out the mechanics of it. He could tell that his friend pretty much had the main body of the cake finished – he had cleverly reworked the core part of the cake into a sort of mountain design with a propeller plane stationed on the snow-covered top; but instead of the bride appearing to take "the big leap" into marriage, the rest of the components, including the adventuresome bride and groom, were still lying on the table next to the rest of the cake, along with myriad trees and what appeared to be a meandering brook laden with smooth-shaped boulders of all sizes.

"Uh…Justin? You _do_ remember that this is supposed to be done by tomorrow, right?" He hated to mention it, but he knew Justin sometimes forgot his schedule when he got caught up in his latest artistic creation. He wasn't sure what his friend's work shift called for today, and from the looks of the current project, Justin had quite a ways to go before his cake would be completely done. At least it was Sunday, which meant the blond wouldn't have any art classes to juggle, too.

"Shit!" Justin cursed; he had completely forgotten what day it was and realized with dread that Emmett was right; he _had_ promised the clients he would have the cake done by tomorrow morning for their wedding Monday night. He groaned. "And I have to _work_ tonight_!_" he confirmed to his friend, who clucked sympathetically. "How in the hell am I ever going to get this _done?"_ As much as he dreaded the thought, there was only one answer: he would have to come back to the shop tonight after his deli shift ended at 10:00. For the umpteenth time this week, he wondered why in the world he had agreed to this crazy schedule in the first place; he couldn't remember the last time he had actually had eight hours of sleep – or even _five_, for that matter. What he wouldn't give right now for a decent night's rest. But obviously it wasn't going to be _tonight_. Not if he hoped to fulfill his commitments – to both projects. He sighed, realizing this went with the territory. Oh, the joys of being a business owner. And thanks to Brian's advertising efforts, calls to their shop and hits to their newly-created, eye-catching website for _Cakes of Art _had increased tremendously since the party at Babylon; in fact, they were getting so many requests for special occasion cakes and catering events that he and Emmett had seriously discussed hiring a high school student to at least take down the phone orders and schedule potential new clients so they could concentrate on the operation of the business. Yes, they had more business than Justin had ever thought possible, thanks to a certain advertising genius – _Brian Kinney_.

Just the thought of that man stirred up such a jumble of emotions. Excitement, nervousness, exhilaration washed over him, along with just a little fear of the power the man seemed to have over him. They had come _so close_ last night to what Justin had been expecting would happen eventually; what he knew Brian was relentlessly pursuing. In a way, he was actually relieved that Gus had stopped them when he did, even though it was unintentional, because that little boy's father both thrilled and scared the hell out of him at the same time with his raw, unbridled sexuality and confidence. Justin had always prided himself on being independent and self-sufficient, but next to this man he felt like some kind of green virgin recruit. His entire body involuntarily shivered at the thought of how that man could make his pulse react in an instant and his heart do flip-flops just at the sound of his voice. God – that voice; so sexy and magnetic in its intensity and timbre. When he said his name or even that idiotic, inane nickname – _Doughboy_ – his body couldn't help but tingle at the sound. Worse of all, though, the man _knew it_. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing to him, and Justin was quickly becoming totally helpless to resist it. I mean, how long could _any normal, red-blooded gay male_ hold out against such an unstoppable force as Brian Kinney?

"Huh?" Justin felt his shoulder being shaken gently. As he came out of his half-dazed musing, he was mortified to discover Emmett trying to get his attention. "Sorry, Em," he told his friend sheepishly, his face reddening a little in embarrassment. "Were you _saying_ something to me?"

Emmett twisted his mouth and studied his friend intently. He couldn't quite figure out what was going on, but it was apparently enough to occupy a great deal of his friend's thoughts lately. Or should he say _he_. He experienced a sudden flash of revelation as he realized that his friend's preoccupation might just have something to do with a certain brunet who had made no bones about how he was going after Justin obstinately until he got what he wanted. Was it possible that he had finally _succeeded?_

He played with the collar of his deep purple, ruffled shirt as he nonchalantly asked his friend, "Uh, yeah, Baby. I was just wondering if you had heard any more from Brian Kinney since he gave you his check and presented you with his advertising ideas." Em noticed a distinct blush creep over his friend's normally pale skin as Justin immediately averted his eyes from him. _Bingo!_ _Something was definitely UP….the question was, just how far UP had it gotten?_

Justin could feel his face warming as he turned his eyes downward and away from his friend's prying eyes. "What makes you ask _that_, Em?" he asked casually, beating himself up internally as he heard his voice slightly stammering in reply. _Get a hold of yourself, Taylor_. _Emmett's your friend._

"Oh…..maybe the way you react every time you hear the man's name?" Emmett replied perceptively, his eyes staring at Justin pointedly like some stern school marm. "Come on, Justin…dish! Just what is going _ON_ between the two of you? I saw you two here in the shop and at his friend's party. You were both practically _fucking_ at the bar in Babylon while the man was undressing you with his _eyes_! He wanted you _bad_, Baby. The question is…what do _YOU _want?" His steel blue eyes stared into his friend's, as Justin bit his lip nervously. _Maybe Justin's already GONE after what he wanted._

They stared at each other for a few seconds until Justin finally plopped hard down into a nearby chair and cradled his head in his hands. "Is it _that_ obvious, Em?" he asked plaintively. He knew there was no point in trying to deny it where Em was concerned; the man knew him far too well. And he had to admit – he hadn't been able to do such a great job of disguising his attraction to the other man; even _GUS_ had noticed.

Emmett smiled softly. "Probably not to everyone, Baby, but it _IS _to ME. Anybody would have to be _blind_ not to see how magnificent a male specimen the cocky Mr. Kinney is. But, Sweetie, I don't wanna see you get _hurt_. Are you sure you've been taught how to play with fire _properly_?"

Justin closed his eyes; the images from last night poured over him like molten lava. Maybe he _COULD_ use a sympathetic ear and an objective opinion right about now. "Probably not," he confessed. "I came really close to getting _burned _last night," he disclosed to his friend. Em waited rather impatiently for Justin to continue his intriguing statement before the blond finally said softly, "Em….Lindsey and Mel asked me over for dinner last night. I thought it would be nice just to get out for a while and eat something beside canned beans and peanut butter sandwiches for a change," he explained, as Em nodded understandingly; he knew up until now at least that Justin had more or less been living paycheck to paycheck. "What they failed to mention to me, though, was that they had invited _another _guest: _Gus' DAD."_

Emmett gasped, half amused and half shocked. So Lindsey had been playing matchmaker again. He sure hoped she knew what she was doing; it certainly seemed to be turning her friend's world upside down, for better or for worse. "I can't really say I'm _that_ surprised. Lindsey's been trying to get you two together again since the first moment she saw you with him."

Justin was a little surprised by _that_ revelation, although in perspective maybe he _shouldn't _have been. He hadn't really known she was intent on reuniting him with Brian until he read her note last night. Most surprisingly of all, he was even _more_ astounded that Emmett knew about her plans before HE did. "Why didn't YOU tell me, Em? It might have saved me some dignity last night; besides, I thought you were worried about Brian using me and discarding me like yesterday's trash."

"Now, Baby, if you remember correctly, I warned you about Kinney's reputation among the Gay Boys' Club right after you met. But I _also_ told you he seemed different around you somehow. Not quite so cocky and arrogant. You saw how he came charging over to your rescue that night when that other guy hit on you at Babylon. That didn't look much like someone who was only a casual admirer of your ass to ME. But that's not to say you still shouldn't tread a little lightly where the man's concerned. So just how _did_ the dinner between you, Lindsey, Mel and Kinney go? I imagine he had to at least be on his best behavior with the two of them around to chaperone," he quipped.

Justin snorted. "Not exactly. Turns out that one of their friends had an _unexpected emergency_ come up all of a sudden, and as soon as I got there they were practically rushing out the door – at least as soon as they made sure I would watch Gus for them. They assured me it wouldn't take long and they'd be back shortly." Justin shook his head at his own gullibility. "It didn't turn out that way."

Emmett sat down hard on a nearby stool, fascinated by the soap opera Justin was laying out. "Now _that's _convenient, wouldn't you say?"

Justin smirked. "It was a little _TOO_ convenient, Em, because it was an out and out ruse. I found THAT out later when Gus showed me a note from Lindsey telling me to "enjoy my dinner" and to "give Brian a chance." He grimaced, adding, "They had the whole thing planned out before I even got there. The only thing I'm not a hundred percent sure of is whether or not Brian was in on it. He sure _acted_ surprised when he found out I was there."

Emmett leaned over in his seat, listening intently. This story was getting more and more interesting by the second. "I'm sure Mr. Kinney, though, was more than happy to find out you were part of dinner that night," he teased his friend, not realizing just how close he had come to hitting the truth. "But Gus was still there, though, right?" he pointed out. "Surely that would have put a damper on Mr. Kinney's plans, even if he WAS in on the scheme."

"Funny you should put it that way," Justin laughed ironically. "Because by the time Brian got there, it was pouring down rain and he was soaking wet." As Emmett raised an eyebrow in silent acknowledgment of that statement, Justin continued, a slight catch in his voice as he remembered how the man had looked last night, "He thought the best solution to that was to throw his wet clothes in the dryer…_after_ he stripped down to nothing but his briefs and a smile in the hallway. And in front of his _son_, no less! Of course, you could tell he was Brian's son, because Gus seemed to think it was perfectly normal to take off all your clothes in front of the guests. Makes me wonder what _else_ he's teaching that boy," he muttered; he furrowed his brows in aggravation and crossed his hands over his chest like a petulant child.

Emmett laughed uproariously at Justin's obvious look of pained discomfort as he glared back at his friend's reaction. "I'm sorry, Baby…..But your look is just _priceless!" _He sobered somewhat, however, as he noticed Justin was failing to see the humor in the situation. "Well, personally, _I'M_ not surprised – that man can't have a modest bone in his body." He gave his friend a thoughtful sideways glance as his fingers fiddled with a paper lace doily on top of the counter. "So…tell me, Sweetie, _IS_ the famous Mr. Kinney as hot as they _say_?" he asked casually, even though he was dying to find out all the juicy details. He had certainly seen enough of the man clothed lately to know he no doubt would be one fine-looking naked man; he thought of how lucky Justin actually was to be able to verify that for himself, up close and personal.

"EM!" Justin retorted in offended irritation; he felt his face redden quickly as his mind revisited the magnificent sight last night of a totally naked Brian Kinney. The man _was_ fucking hot – _red-hot, BLAZING _hot; there was no question about that. And with just a hint of satisfaction, he realized he knew just how to get HIM hot, too…..There was definitely no mistaking the look of desire and lust the man was broadcasting loud and clear to him last night….

After his friend's irritated outburst, Emmett was taken a little aback to actually see Justin smiling a little now; what had he missed? "Uh…Justin? You didn't answer my question about your dinner date. Did the two of you have some _dessert_ before or _after_ dinner?"

Justin flushed an even deeper red now just thinking of how close Emmett had just come to hitting the mark, and how close he and Brian had come to fucking last night. And the man's _body…_he shivered just at the thought of the intense pleasure the man had given him just by sucking him off for a few minutes before he had somehow managed to expertly push him down onto the couch. How their bodies seemed to fit so damned perfectly together, how his oh-so-skilled lips had kissed and suckled his mouth until it was swollen and red. How the man would have undoubtedly fucked him senseless if it hadn't of been for his son interrupting them just when…

He felt a small nudge on his shoulder. "Earth to Justin! Come out of your wet dream, Sweetie, and tell me the rest! You're killing me here with the _suspense_!"

Justin opened his eyes abruptly, getting his bearings on where he was and who he was with. Right – their shop. He was telling Em about his "dinner date" with Brian. He exhaled a shaky breath before he continued, "Yeah…..last night. Well, Gus went and got a towel for his father (_thank God_, Justin thought_)_ and when Brian went upstairs to put Gus to bed after dinner and he came back down he was still wearing it around his waist." He took a deep breath as his mind wandered back to the moment last night that was so etched in his head before he continued his narration in a little more subdued tone. "Of course at the time I didn't realize he wasn't wearing anything else underneath," he admitted, a little embarrassed as Em's eyes grew large with the implications; the older man smiled back at him in rapt fascination, his eyebrows raised and his eyes twinkling in amusement. _Now we're getting to the interesting part_. "Go on," he encouraged the younger man; it was like pulling teeth for his friend to get to the point for some reason. "Then what?" he prompted; he was beginning to feel like a voyeur at a live peep show as he waited for Justin to continue.

Justin looked down at his lap and wringed his hands a little nervously. For some reason he was finding it hard to reveal all of the details of his dinner with Brian last night; somehow it seemed like when it came to _this_ man, the moments between them were extremely personal, even when he was talking about it to his friend. "Well…..he sort of pinned me against the kitchen sink when he came back down, and….well, after we kissed for a while – a _LONG while_," he elaborated in almost breathless embarrassment as his body began to relive their extremely sensual encounter from last night, "uh….he kind of pulled me toward the couch to, let's just say, _move on to dessert_." He bit his lip, his body so wired up just from thinking about what had almost happened, what he had _wanted_ to happen, if he was truthful with himself, that he could actually feel his cock beginning to harden just at the thought of it.

Emmett's heart was beating rapidly trying to conjure up the vivid image of his friend and that piece of predatory power moving onto some serious calisthenics after dinner; God, what he wouldn't have paid to be a spectator at THAT display! "And?" he asked impatiently. "Details, Baby, details!" he demanded.

Justin sighed then, now that the _climax_ to the story was over; unfortunately it wasn't the _climax_ his body had been craving last night, however. He had been so worked up after his extremely sensual yet unfulfilled encounter with Brian last night that he had had to go home and jack off just to relieve some of the tension.

"Uh….Actually there's not much else to tell," he reported. _Well, maybe a LITTLE more – or in Brian's case, a LOT more. _"Brian walked me over to the couch," he began in a whisper, "and …he dropped the towel…and that's when I saw him – ALL of him – for the first time." Justin's face flushed crimson at the thought of what that man, that _glorious-_looking specimen of a man, had looked like. Like some type of foreboding Greek god, he decided. He noticed Emmett staring at him intently as he eagerly waited for more details.

His next few sentences sort of came out rapid-fire in a torrent of thoughts as he continued, his face flushed and heated over reliving the passion of last night, "He…he helped me take my clothes off and he managed to suck me off for a few moments and then pushed me down onto the couch, but then Gus called down from upstairs to tell Brian he was thirsty and needed to go to the bathroom. That's when I realized I….._we_ couldn't…you know, _(did he HAVE to spell it out?)_ while Gus was there. It kind of killed the moment," he finally ended his narrative, lamenting softly as he took a breath to regain some much-needed air. "When Brian went back upstairs to help his son, I realized that…maybe things were moving just a little too fast and I needed to step back a little." He looked over to the other man and smiled wistfully. "You see, I guess I DID listen to you, Em. I'm still confused over his intentions. He can be so smug and arrogant one moment and then so gentle with Gus the next." He recalled last night's interaction between father and son before and after dinner, and he was touched by the obvious love and caring between the two. As hard as it was to believe, was it just possible that Brian Kinney's conceited, devil-may-care attitude was just a façade to hide an unsure, vulnerable and even in some ways _scared_ man? Of course, the man certainly didn't _look_ scared last night when he was stripping down to practically nothing in front of him and later after dinner when they were alone; but was it all somehow just an act of some kind to hide some other genuine feelings?

Emmett studied his friend carefully and pondered his comment; was it remotely possible that the Brian Kinney he had heard about and the one that Justin had actually encountered were two distinctly different men? _WAS_ the man's cocky attitude all for show? He considered that thought as he looked over at his friend, whose face was a canvas of indecision. Justin definitely was attracted to this man, and he could tell readily from his own observation that the feeling was mutual. But beyond that common bond, did they both want the same thing? And if not, was there a way for them to meet in the middle somewhere and both get what they wanted? Was it such a bad thing if his friend wanted just one night of unbelievable, mind-blowing sex? He considered that thought and decided that when it came to Justin, it probably was, because his friend was so sensitive and compassionate, he typically gave his heart to a man as well as his body. From what Justin had just told him, also, it sounded like Brian Kinney already owned a piece of his heart already, anyway. He could certainly sympathize with his friend and could definitely understand the temptation to give in to Kinney and just be done with it, but what about the fallout? What would happen if the worst comes to pass and Brian moves on to another trick as soon as he's had Justin? His friend deserved better than that, but was it up to Emmett to make that decision for him?

"I really don't know what to tell you, Baby," Emmett replied truthfully. "I have a distinct feeling you haven't seen the last of Mr. Kinney, though." He had a feeling the man was like someone in the desert parched with thirst and craving water; he wouldn't be content until his thirst was quenched. And the more the man was deprived of "water," the more he was going to want it. "I think you're going to have to decide what you want. When it comes down to it, it's up to you, Sweetie. As they say, it takes two to tango – or in your case, fuck." Emmett wouldn't say it out loud, but if HE had had the chance to _tango_ with someone like Brian Kinney, even if it WAS only once, he'd have taken it in a heartbeat; but he had been "around the block" enough times by now that being cast aside after one mind-blowing fuck wouldn't break his heart like he suspected it would Justin's.

Justin grimaced. In a way, he had been hoping Emmett would just advise him to do it or NOT do it; instead, Emmett was throwing the ball back in his court and telling him HE had to decide. He sighed. "I know you're right, Em," he admitted. "I just don't know what to do."

Emmett placed his hand briefly on the other man's shoulder and squeezed it sympathetically. "Well, Baby, something tells me you'd better decide soon, because I don't think that man's going to give up too easily until he gets what he wants." He glanced up at the clock above Justin's head on the wall and rose from his stool. "In the meantime, while you're working on the skydiving bride, I think I'll take a run over to Whole Foods with my shopping list and get started on the canapés for the reception tomorrow night, okay?"

Justin nodded. "Sounds good. I'll be here for a little longer – I don't have to start my shift at the deli until 2. While you're gone, I'll be here trying to hopefully get this damn bride attached to the cake somehow. Maybe I'll try to make the parachute out of some spun sugar…..or maybe my "skydiving bride" will decide she likes hot-air ballooning instead," he smirked, although he knew that wouldn't work. He always prided himself on being able to practically read the client's mind and he could tell the bride and groom had their heart set on a skydiving scene, NOT someone descending in a hot-air balloon. Somehow he was going to have to figure out how to make the scene work. He sighed. "I think it's going to be another long night," he told his friend.

"Well, hang in there, Baby – You'll figure it out. I'll be back in about an hour before you leave, okay?" Justin nodded, only half-listening as Emmett exited the shop; his attention was already turned back to his unfinished creation as his mind ran through possible scenarios of ways to successfully attach the bride to his cake.

Justin worked in silent contemplation for about a minute before he heard the overhead entrance bell ring as someone came in through the front door. "Em, did you forget something?" he asked his friend, not even bothering to look up as he continued to study his problematic cake.

Before he had a chance to even look up, however, a small vortex rushed into the workroom. "Hi, Jus'n!" Gus chirped happily as he launched himself at Justin and threw his arms around the startled blond.

"Gus! How did YOU get here, Buddy?" he asked the little boy, smiling. He was always happy to see Gus – the boy always seemed to be in such a good mood. He noticed with amusement that Gus had Dino tightly grasped in his little hand as usual; it seemed his fascination with the Dimetrodon hadn't diminished yet.

As Justin hugged the child to his chest, he heard a nearby voice drawl, "His father brought him here." His pulse rapidly quickened as he heard Brian add huskily, "You forgot to say goodbye last night."

Even if he had been blind, Justin would have recognized who that voice belonged to immediately; his body _certainly_ knew who it belonged to – the man he had been constantly thinking about since their dinner last night. _Get a hold of yourself, Taylor…don't let him know how much he's affecting you. R-I-G-H-T, _he thought, as his heart continued to pound furiously.

As Brian stood in the doorway separating the display area from Justin's workshop in the back, he took the time to briefly study the man who had been uppermost in his thoughts since they had met. By now Brian had met and fucked more men than he could ever keep track of; so just what it about this particular, young, blond spitfire that fascinated him so much? Was it because he was constantly being rebuffed and frustrated in his attempt to fuck him? Or was there more to it than that? As he gazed at the shining blond hair and the blue eyes peering up at him through long, long eyelashes, he felt his body thrum with desire and yearning. The only possible explanation was that Justin Taylor was his disease and there was only one cure; he made himself a vow that before one more night had passed, he would find a way to scratch his itch thoroughly. He just wasn't sure how he was going to accomplish that with Gus spending the night with him tonight at his loft.

Justin closed his eyes briefly to compose his thoughts; he couldn't let this man know how much he affected him and how much he completely disoriented him. He struggled to make his words come out with a modicum of sense as he explained, "It was late and Gus needed you. I thought it was easier if I just left."

"Easier for _whom_, Doughboy?" Brian pressed, even though they both knew the answer to that question.

Justin picked Gus up to sit on his lap as he lightly ruffled the boy's soft brown hair; he couldn't meet Brian's pointed gaze as he replied, "I've got goals I have to keep this weekend, Brian. And I have to work tonight."

"How long?" Brian asked. "I have a goal to keep, too…one that I didn't get a chance to meet last night. I thought you could help me _reach_ it tonight." His voice dripped with innuendo as Justin shivered slightly at the sexy tone of his voice.

Justin gently placed Gus back down on the ground. "Gus, I think Emmett has some chocolate cupcakes out in the front room on the table. Are you hungry?" he asked the little boy, who nodded eagerly, and promptly scurried toward the showroom in search of his prize.

Brian patted Gus on the head affectionately as the boy passed him in the doorway before he slowly, deliberately walked toward his target, who sat somewhat warily on one of the workroom stools. He noticed with interest that Justin was already hard at work on another cake creation that promised to be as intriguing as Mikey's superhero cake. At the moment, however, Brian was much more interested in the cake _designer_. He leaned over the other man as he placed his hands on either side of the table to effectively block Justin in as he whispered in his ear, "Gus isn't the only who's _hungry_. Come over to the loft tonight and _satisfy my appetite._" As Justin slowly raised his expressive eyes to meet his, Brian couldn't help imbibing in a little appetizer as he placed a slight nip on the blond's ear, smirking as he earned a slight moan in return. _Too easy_.

Justin's entire body instantly went on alert as soon as Brian had begun to slowly walk toward him; what he had hoped would be a private conversation between him and the other man while Gus was in the showroom had quickly turned instead into a battle for him to keep his hormones from raging at the sound of the man's voice. And just the quick bite on his earlobe had made his eyes dilate and his face flush. The man could make him forget everything he wanted to say in a heartbeat just by looking at him that way; what WAS he going to say, anyway? Oh, yeah…goals – commitments – Gus..._hunger – an INSATIABLE, UNDENIABLE _hunger.

Shaking his head in disgust, he firmly pushed Brian away from him and stood up before he had a chance to change his mind. "Brian, I already said I have to work tonight and then I have to come back to the shop to finish this cake before tomorrow morning. And you have Gus tonight. I'm afraid you're just going to have to stay _hungry _for a while longer."

Brian stood there in shock; was this man turning him down AGAIN? He couldn't believe this. No man ever turned him down – he was Brian Kinney, for God's sake! He huffed out an indignant breath of frustration as he stood there with his hands on his hips in astonishment. For a brief second, he pondered if maybe the man was straight – that could be the only rational reason why _anyone_ would have the balls to turn HIM down. But he had already seen Justin's response to him last night, and he knew there was no way THAT could be the case – he knew better. But despite the other man's obvious attraction to him, he continued to thwart his every attempt to satisfy his need - his unending _hunger _for this obstinate blond.

Before he had a chance to continue his pursuit, though, his son came bursting back into the workroom with Dino in one hand and a cupcake in the other. "Look, Daddy – Jus'n gave me a cupcake!" It was obvious by the boy's chocolate-smeared face that he had already sampled his treat.

Brian took one look at his messy son and had to smile regardless of his frustration. "I take it the cupcake's good, Sonny Boy?" he asked his son, who nodded quickly to verify how tasty it was by licking his lips and sticking out his tongue to wipe up some of the nearby icing on his face. Brian reached down and tenderly rubbed his thumb over his son's cheek to wipe off some of the stray icing before wiping his hand off with a nearby napkin.

Justin again was mystified by the abrupt change in Brian when his son was around; it was like the man had a split personality. With his son, Brian seemed to be willing to reveal just a little more of what Justin hoped was his true self, and despite his reservations Justin found himself wanting to find out more about the softer side of this man. Even though Brian was more than willing to help him achieve his goal of getting to know him better - at least in his own sexually charged way - he knew it wouldn't be tonight.

Justin jumped a little when he heard the overhead bell dinging again. "I'm back!" Emmett announced cheerily as he rushed into the back room with several plastic bags of supplies. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, as he noticed they had visitors. _Well, well, well…look who's here – what a surprise….yeah, right._

"Em – you remember Brian?" Justin asked his friend courteously, as if anyone could forget him. "This is Brian's son, Gus," he added, nodding his head over toward the miniature spitting image of the man.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gus," Emmett politely said, smiling as he bent down to shake the boy's hand. His smile faded a little as he stood back up and turned to Brian to study him intently; it wasn't hard to notice the electrically-charged atmosphere in the room between his friend and the other man; the two men were practically sparking with tension. "Mr. Kinney," Emmett acknowledged the other man politely with a nod. "Justin showed me the advertising campaign and website you created – it's already brought us in a lot of new business," he graciously stated. Even though he still wasn't sure of the man's intentions toward his friend, he had to admit when it came to advertising the man definitely knew his stuff.

"I know," Brian stated confidently; there really wasn't a boastful tone in his voice – he didn't _have_ to brag – it was a fact that he knew what he was doing and he was the best at doing it. He would have expected nothing less from any of his advertising strategies; he didn't get so successful at what he was doing by being mediocre.

Justin shook his head; the man was confident if nothing else. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, though; he _was_ good at what he did – _EVERYTHING_ he did. That was the problem – the question was, just what did Justin want the man to DO? At any rate, whatever it was, it wasn't going to be tonight.

"Uh, Em, I was just telling Brian that I had to work at the deli tonight and finish up this cake before the Murphy wedding tomorrow night." _Come on, Em – help me out here_, he silently pleaded with his friend. He wasn't sure he hold out against Brian without his friend's help.

Fortunately, Em was very perceptive. "That's right," he verified to the other man, who glared back at him as if he were a mortal enemy. "And I have a ton of canapés to make for the wedding, also. So if you'll excuse us? It was nice meeting you, Gus…..take another cupcake with you when you go, if you want," he said in an obvious show of dismissal to them both.

"Yay!" Gus squealed as he snatched up the final bite of his cupcake and licked his fingers clean of the icing. He took his father's hand and began to tug him toward the front room to collect his second treat as Brian tried to remain rigidly in place. This was NOT going the way he had hoped it would at _all_. As he looked over at Justin, who was averting his eyes, he grudgingly realized his hunger was going to have to be unfulfilled for tonight. But that was going to change – _soon_. "I'll be right there, Sonny Boy," he told his son as he released his hand. "You go ahead and get the cupcake and I'll be right out, okay?"

As his son scampered back into the front room, Brian ignored the taller man staring rather defiantly back at him as he slowly walked toward Justin, who was standing by his partially completed wedding cake. As Brian stopped in front of him and rose forebodingly to his full height, he reached out and grasped Justin's chin firmly to tilt his face up to look him directly in the eyes. "This isn't over, Doughboy," he whispered sexily. "I'm fucking _starved _now and only you can satisfy my appetite." As Justin's eyes grew large and his breath hitched in his throat at the determined tone in the other man's voice, Brian barked out, "Dinner – tomorrow – my loft – 7:00. If you're not there, I _will _come and find you; _count on it_," he huskily promised, before he abruptly spun on his heels and walked out of the backroom to collect his son.

As the overhead door signaled the pair's departure, Justin shakily let out a breath he had been holding. "Em….I am so fucked."


	14. Chapter 14: A Feast For the Eyes & Body

_Cakes of Art – Late Monday Morning_

Justin stood back a few feet from his latest cake and sighed in relief; at last the Murphy wedding cake was completely finished and ready to be delivered. For a few hours last night, he had been worried that he wouldn't find a way to make sure the bride would stay attached to the top of the cake like he had envisioned. He eventually had an inspiration, however, and managed to secure her firmly to the airplane by sticking a dowel up her ass and then anchoring the other end to the cake base. It might not have been pretty while he was doing it, but now that the support was cleverly disguised underneath a billowy cloud of fondant, no one would know the current pain the poor bride was experiencing.

He smirked as he realized that somehow the thought of the bride's predicament brought to mind a man who had been preoccupying most of his thoughts lately – the larger-than-life pain in the ass himself, Brian Kinney. The man who had made no bones about expecting Justin over for dinner tonight, either as the appetizer, the dessert, or maybe both; he suspected it all depended upon the man's patience and willpower, which he seemed to have little of lately. He was extremely clear last night that he expected him over at the loft by precisely 7:00. Not 7:01, not 7:02….7:00, even earlier if the man had _his_ way. And Justin also had no doubts about what would happen if he _did_ go over there; something would be eaten, all right, but he knew it wasn't going to be just the _food_.

He felt his face warm at the vision of an incredibly sexy and horny Brian Kinney pouncing on him like some sleek, elegant jungle cat the second he walked into the loft. He still wasn't sure it was such a wise idea to accept his invitation. He snorted to himself; _as if it WERE an invitation – it was more like a command from the Royal King of Fucking himself._ He also harbored no doubts whatsoever what would happen if for some unfathomable reason he decided not to show up; he couldn't keep running from the man forever. In fact, it appeared that the more he resisted him, the more determined the man was to _have_ him. And truth be told, Justin's willpower was quickly being worn down. He found that he couldn't sleep at night lately – last night when he had finally gotten to bed around 2:00 a.m. his mind was whirling at such a furious speed over the anticipation of their next meeting that no matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn't find a comfortable enough position in which to fall back asleep. Aggravated as well as totally frustrated, he finally just gave up and got out of bed at 6:00 a.m. to come down here to the shop and complete the finishing touches on his latest creation. At least that meant that he was done before his self-imposed deadline of delivering the cake by noon. Now all he had to do was get Emmett to help him load it into the back of their somewhat beat-up van for transportation over to the nearby reception hall.

As if reading his mind, he heard the overhead bell chime above the entrance door seconds before he heard Emmett calling for him. "I'm back here, Em," he told his friend, nodding in greeting as Em came rushing back. In true inimitable Emmett style, he noticed his business partner was "dressed up" for the wedding in a silk ruffled magenta shirt and a pair of tight, spandex black and white striped pants. He had accented it with a silver chain belt made out of circles slung low over his hips.

"Hey, Baby," Emmett greeted his friend; he nodded approvingly and smiled as he studied Justin's latest cake creation. "Wow, that's _amazing_, Sweetie." He marveled at the multi-tiered creation as Justin grinned at the compliment. "I don't know how you manage to attach all the 3-D art, but when you get it done, it's always an incredible, edible work of art." His brows furrowed at a sudden revelation. "Hey, that would have been a good name for your part of the business: _Incredible Edible Works of Art_. Now why didn't the infamous Mr. Kinney think of _that_ one?" He noticed at the mention of Kinney's name that Justin winced slightly. "Although…..we certainly have gotten enough business with the name he came up with…..anymore and I'd have to start making appetizers in my sleep." He gazed over slyly at his friend, who seemed to be averting his eyes. "Speaking of which..._When_ was HIS _appetizer _supposed to be appearing for dinner tonight? 7:00 o'clock? Or are you actually going to be the _main course_?" he teased knowingly; it certainly wasn't hard to figure out what the other man's intentions were; hell, he had been on a mission to capture Justin and fuck him senseless from the instant he had seen him here at the shop.

Justin flushed at the perceptive observation. He sighed before replying, "I…..think it's inevitable that I go over there. He's already made it clear he'll track me down like some bounty hunter if I dare defy his orders to appear."

Emmett huffed softly. "Yeah, I think he's definitely planning on ordering some _room service_….._BEDROOM_ service. That is, if the man can wait long enough to get you _into_ the bedroom."

Justin grimaced. "Well, if it's any consolation I've been over there, remember, and there's not much distance between the couch and the bed." He twisted his face wryly. "Sometimes I think he _designed_ it that way on purpose."

Emmett reached over to pat his friend on the shoulder in commiseration. "It wouldn't matter anyway," he said matter-of-factly. "I don't think there's enough space on the _Planet Earth_ to keep that man from getting into your pants, Sweetie."

Justin eyed his friend carefully. "Are you saying you've changed your mind about my avoiding him? I thought you said he was only interested in the thrill of the hunt and the conquest."

Emmett squeezed Justin's neck briefly in affection. "He _is_, Baby. But I'm become resigned to the inevitable. The man's not going to give up until he gets what he wants – whether it's tonight or later. The man's _relentless_ when it comes to you. Unless you can gain about 50 pounds overnight or you're planning on relocating to Tokyo or Frankfort, I don't think there's any place on this _planet_ you can hide. He's like a kid in the local candy store, eyeing the sweetest eye candy there, and the more he drools over it, the more he has to have it, even if he breaks a few rules along the way."

"You mean like actually beginning to _care_ about someone other than just as a one-night fuck?" Justin pointed out in Brian's defense, "_Lindsey_ seemed to think he did, and she apparently knows him pretty well. Even YOU seem to think there's a possibility he actually has a _heart_ buried deep inside that body somewhere." _And oh what a body it was,_ he thought as his own body gave a small tremble of nervous desire. The man was absolutely breathtaking in his sensuality and confidence; Justin had definitely never met such a formidable suitor as Brian Kinney before, and he dared say he never _would_ again.

Emmett shrugged, uncertain. "I don't know – the man's extremely hard – to _read_, Baby," he added with a smirk as Justin looked at him, amused. "Just tread lightly around him…..You've got good instincts, though. Go with your gut, Baby…..the _balls_ in your court."

Justin snorted at the double entendre. "I wish that were the case, Em. The _ball_ may be in my court, but both of them are soon going to be at _HIS_ loft. I remember the other time I fool heartedly agreed to meet him for dinner, and I barely got out of there with both balls _intact_." He closed his eyes as the sensual memory washed over him – even now after a few days his body still felt charged with electricity just at the thought of stepping foot in that dangerous man's space again. But he had to grudgingly admit it – he was also excited as hell over the prospect of feeling that man's taut, sinewy body urgently pressed up against him in hungry, wanton abandon.

Emmett observed Justin's body responding to the thought of being alone again with Kinney; he watched as his friend's face turned a dark shade of pink and he closed his eyes almost in rapture; Justin's body actually trembled, undoubtedly over the anticipation of being in Kinney's presence again. Yes, there was no doubt about it – Justin was already swimming in the fucking shark pool well over his head and there was no way to prevent him from being eaten alive. But what a way to go, he thought.

"Oh, Shit!" Justin suddenly exclaimed, as he opened his eyes and glanced up at the clock. It was already 11:30 and he had promised the bride the cake would be at the reception hall by noon. "Em, I've got to get this cake delivered right away. Can you help me get it into the van? They promised to have the concierge at the reception hall help me get it inside, so you can keep working on your canapés. How are they coming by the way?"

"They're just _fabulous_, Honey, if I do say so myself," he crowed. The bride had asked for a finger-food theme of small sandwiches and other miniature canapés for the reception, which was being held late in the evening directly after the wedding; since the wedding party was having a lavish, sit-down dinner prior to the ceremony, she has asked for lighter and smaller fare afterward. "Try one, Baby," Emmett offered, reaching over to snatch one of the cucumber and cream cheese-filled tomato bites he had prepared and handing it to his friend.

Justin plopped one of the cherry tomato snacks into his mouth and gulped it down after a couple of bites. "These are _fantastic_, Em!" he praised his friend, grinning and licking the creamy mixture off his fingers. "Any more like that and they'll forget all _about_ the cake."

Emmett shook his head firmly. "Not a chance, Justin. They're always too mesmerized by what you create to ever forget it. Although they're almost too _pretty_ to eat, Baby." He smirked. "Something tells me that Mr. Kinney won't have that problem with you, though, even if you ARE a _pretty little thing_." He reached over and placed a brief kiss on Justin's cheek.

Justin rolled his eyes and huffed. "Enough, Em – help me get this cake out to the van, okay?" Emmett smiled at him as he obligingly reached down to lift up the nearest side of the cake base to help Justin slowly carry it toward the open door and out to their van.

Justin sighed in relief a few minutes later when they finally had the skydiving cake firmly anchored down in the back of their van. "I'll swing by for a little while after I drop this off to help you finish up your canapés," he offered. "That should give me plenty of time to go home and get ready for dinner."

Emmett smiled. "I appreciate the offer, Baby, but I'm actually pretty much done. I think maybe I should finish the appetizers here alone so you can go home and work on _someone ELSE'S_ appetizer." _And main course, and dessert, and breakfast…._Something told Emmett it was going to be a long, _hard_ night of imbibing for two men in particular.

Justin huffed and rolled his eyes. "_Mr. Kinney_ will just have to take whatever he gets," he growled. "Besides, if the man's going to do what I think he's going to do, what difference will it make what I _WEAR_?"

Emmett cocked his head; he had to concede – maybe he had a point. "You might have something there. But image is still everything," he insisted. "You need to wrap your _package_ properly," he kidded his friend, raising his eyebrows mischievously as Justin snorted. He wasn't sure if he should actually be encouraging him, but the fashion diva in him couldn't help it; his quirky fashion sense was as much a part of him as breathing. "After all, the man IS in advertising."

Just before Justin closed the back door of the van and walked around to get into the driver's side, he turned to his friend. "You forget he's already seen the _package_ unadorned, Em, and he certainly didn't complain _then_." He noticed his business partner didn't really have a rebuttal to _that_ comment. "But if it makes you feel any better, I'll do my best to live up to your fashion expectations." He nodded and smiled at his friend before he closed the door and started the van to slowly merge out into traffic.

Emmett watched him go. Justin was such a sweet, kind and gentle soul but in a way that also made him vulnerable and just a little naïve. He only hoped that Brian Kinney would somehow understand that and not treat his friend like a newly-discovered toy to be played with intensely for a brief time only to be discarded onto the rest of the junk pile of one-night tricks he had gathered along the way; his friend deserved much better than that. Apart from his silent good wishes, however, he knew there was nothing else he could do to stop what was about to happen. _Tread with care, Baby. Your heart's on the line here_, he thought, before he turned and slowly closed the shop's door behind him.

* * *

Justin turned around to look over his back at his reflection in the mirror; he was agonizing over whether the snug-fitting dark blue jeans he was wearing were _too_ tight. Of course, when it came to Brian Kinney, he figured _nothing_ could be too tight unless the man was finding it too difficult to get them off of him quickly enough. And he found himself thinking rather ridiculous things then, like should he wear button-down jeans or one with a single button and a fly? The question really was – which type could Brian get off him the _fastest_? Because if he were truly honest with himself, now that he assumed this was the night they finally were going to go all the way (how sophomoric that sounded, he thought, as he slapped himself lightly on the side of his head), he found it important that he looked just right. Despite the swagger in his voice earlier when he had told Emmett it didn't matter _what_ he wore, he found to his chagrin that it _did_. He _wanted_ to knock Brian off his feet – figuratively as well as literally. This was the night, for better or for worse. Of course, that didn't mean that he couldn't make Brian _work_ for it, he thought with a smug smile. Just like the roadrunner and the coyote, he decided it was time for the mouse to come out and tease the cat mercilessly. _Let's just see who has the most willpower here, Kinney,_ he thought, as he nodded in satisfaction decisively: these jeans were the ones – tight and oh-so-revealing in both front and back. They hugged his ass perfectly, almost like a second skin. Now all he had to do was find the proper complimentary shirt. He turned toward the open closet door and searched thoughtfully through his tops. Should he choose a button-down shirt that Brian could slowly open seductively as he lightly teased Justin's pale chest with his long, experienced, magical fingers? Or should he go with a pullover shirt that Brian could throw over his head roughly in one frantic leap of passion? He thought for a few seconds before finally deciding the Brian HE knew wasn't going to opt for being patient and slow tonight, at least not the first time. And Justin had no doubt there would be more than one round of fucking, if he read Brian correctly. Someone as sexually-charged as that man would _never_ be satisfied with one time. Justin found himself shivering at the thought of an extremely horny, naked and sweaty Brian Kinney practically devouring him, pressing Justin down roughly on the bed before he aggressively melded his body into his. He closed his eyes in bliss as he felt himself growing hard imagining how it would feel to experience the man's hot, firm flesh possessively covering every inch of his body like a soft, sensual, velvety glove in his king-sized bed. He could see himself clenching his hands tightly as he clawed at the sheets in an unsuccessful, desperate attempt for leverage as Brian held him prisoner, ravaging him from his face all the way down to his toes, slithering down his body like some predatory snake about to devour him whole as Justin writhed at the expert, exquisite torment.

He moaned at what an exhilarating feeling it would be when Brian held him tightly bound in his arms as he rained kisses all over his face, neck, under his arms, and down the side of his chest as his lips resolutely sought a nipple to nip and tug at it with meticulous torture, only to wash it lovingly with a skilled, limber, hot and wet tongue. All the time Justin could feel Brian's large, thick, wet cock rubbing its way languidly down his body as his face and lips followed to inch farther down, seeking Justin's own cock like a missile determinedly seeking its aroused target. Justin would peer down, his eyes bright and large with lust, as he watched Brian's head _S-L-O-W-L-Y_ moving sensuously down his abdomen, pausing just long enough to swirl his expert tongue around Justin's navel as the blond continued to squirm at the man's ministrations before he _finally_ made a direct trail toward Justin's shaft...

"Shit!" Justin cried out in disgust. His cock was now hard as a rock and it was beginning to leak profusely. If he didn't stop his juvenile fantasizing immediately, he would have to go change clothes; as it was, he would have to change his briefs because of his foolish need to daydream about his upcoming dinner with Brian. He knew, though, no matter HOW fantastic his vision was of he and Brian in bed, nothing could ever compare to the _real thing_. If he was getting this horny just _thinking_ about him and Brian making love, he could only imagine what the actual event would be like; it would have to be downright _mind blowing_. He thought how foolish he had been to think that somehow he could have prevented this moment from happening; it was almost like it had been pre-ordained from the second they had met – he just didn't know it at the time. It was like trying to prevent a gush of spring water from rushing off the mountain – _Mount Kinney_. He shuddered, trying hard to compose himself as he wiped the sweat from his brow. Peering over at his nightstand alarm clock, he noticed with some sense of excited urgency that it was 6:30. He dashed over to the dresser drawer to yank out a new pair of briefs as he hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans to hastily push them off his legs and change into the clean pair of underwear.

He quickly grabbed his pair of jeans and his body bounced lightly on the bed as he hurriedly sat down to pull his jeans back up over his legs. Standing up to finish fastening them around his slim waist, he searched frantically for his dressier shoes, finally spying them under the bed. He finally decided Brian would have no patience for a button-down shirt as he quickly yanked a long-sleeved, cherry-red, soft cotton and spandex v-neck shirt from his nearby closet and rapidly pulled it down over his head. Snatching his shoes up, he pounded his feet into each loafer before he ran over to the kitchen counter to grab his door key. Since Emmett had needed the van tonight, he had just enough time to take a deep breath before he began to run down to the corner to catch the 6:40 bus toward Brian's loft.

His "Good Justin" fleetingly reared its ugly head to whisper in his ear, _I hope you know what you're doing_, before he determinedly quashed it down and ran frantically for the bus down the street to meet his destiny and his heart's desire. Tonight was going to be the biggest night of his life. _Brian Kinney – get ready to play_.

_

* * *

_

Brian's Loft – Same Time

Brian studied himself in the mirror as he nodded approvingly. He had dispensed with wearing any shoes, thinking _why bother_? They would only impede his progress later. He had opted for a pair of black, tight-fitting jeans that expertly molded around his ample cock; as was his custom when he was on the prowl for a desirable target – and Justin Taylor was the apex of that group – he had left the top button of his jeans casually undone to display just a small bit of the tantalizing, curly dark hair underneath. It also broadcast clearly that he didn't have anything else on. Again, why bother with impediments? He figured if he and Justin somehow managed to make it past the appetizers he had ordered from the gourmet shop down the street without fucking, he was losing his touch; because if he had HIS way, the man wouldn't get more than _10 feet_ inside his loft before he was attacking him mercilessly. His body temperature rose at the thought of having that delicious man firmly locked in his arms again. He could almost feel Justin shiver in response as his skillful hands roamed all over the pale, soft skin as he drew imaginary circles all over the tender shoulders and back. He would then grasp his Doughboy's head firmly in his large hands and force him to keep still as he stared at him heatedly for several seconds before ever-so-slowly lowering his lips toward the plump, full ones just begging to be kissed. And kiss them he would – over and over and over again, until the man was moaning with pleasure and his lips were red and swollen from his expert attack. His tongue would greedily invade the warm haven of his mouth as it demanded entrance and commanded total possession. He would then advance the blond backwards toward the couch before he began his full-frontal, open assault on him. He would impatiently rip at his shirt – again, why bother being dainty when the goal was so incredible? After he had disposed of that obstacle, he would then skillfully unbutton and/or unzip the man's pants and in one fluid motion he would firmly yank the pants and briefs down those slender, pale, soft peach-fuzz legs as he slid the material lower and lower until finally pulling them all the way off to enable him to stare admiringly and lustily at the man's cock, which he had recalled was quite admirable for such a slender frame. By then, Justin's cock would be hard, erect, and oh-so-ready to treat him to a little tasty sample. After he pushed him down onto the plush suede cushions, he would hold both of his hands captive in one of his own while he slid ever-so-slowly down the pale, soft skin of his body, being urged on by the other man's soft whimpers of desire and his ragged pants of breath as he stopped briefly to lick a wet trail from each rapidly-hardening nipple and then down the middle of his chest. As Justin's eyes followed him to worship every part of his body, Brian would have to return his gaze long enough to quickly smash the lips once again against his own to partake of that sweet, lush mouth one more time before resuming his relentless journey back toward his ultimate goal.

He would pause long enough then to raise his head and leer into the captivating sapphire blue eyes that by now were staring back at him like darkening pools of lust. He would still his wandering hand and the rest of his body for a few, electrically-charged seconds as the two of them stared wordlessly at each other, each one realizing they were about to take a sexy and delicious journey where there would be turning back. Then he wouldn't be able to help the hungry growl from escaping his lips as his head swooped down to claim its prize at last…..

"SHIT!" He jumped at least a foot as he heard the door buzzer sound, signaling someone's arrival downstairs. He cursed at the interruption, knowing it was too early for his Doughboy to be arriving just yet. He glanced down at the painful hard-on he was now wearing before he stumbled barefoot over to the intercom. "Who is it?" he snarled, offended that someone would dare interrupt his sensual daydream.

"Shea's Gourmet Shop with your order, Mr. Kinney," he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Fourth floor, door by the elevator," he barked authoritatively as he released the front door lock for entrance. He quickly walked into the bedroom to don a loose-fitting sleeveless shirt in hopes it would hide his hard-on before the delivery man appeared; he had just thrown it over his head when he heard the familiar whine of the elevator arriving at his floor.

He pulled the heavy metal door to the side as he observed a 20-ish, wavy-haired redhead standing there with a large, brown paper bag. The man had some of the greenest eyes Brian had ever seen, and with his pale complexion and red hair the effect was striking. As he invited the man in with a wave of his hand, he immediately picked up on the other man's quick, admiring glance at his body. The man was clearly broadcasting that he was eagerly anticipating the possibility of delivering more than just Brian's _food_. What left Brian thunderstruck, however, was the realization that he _wasn't interested_. It seemed that his own little delicious Doughboy had spoiled him for all others. Tonight, Brian Kinney, Gay King of Pittsburgh, was only interested in fucking one man senseless – and by the frantic, sensory explosions occurring all over his body at the mere thought of it, the man had better get over here _damn soon_.

Snatching the bill away from the startled man's hand, he reached over for his wallet and pulled out more than enough cash to cover the bill and a substantial tip; anything to get this impediment out of his loft so he could get on to much more exciting business. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out," he sarcastically retorted, as he slapped the bills into his palm and gave the man a little push of encouragement to leave. The man stared open-mouthed at him, stunned by the out-and-out rejection, before he emitted a slight huff of insulted irritation and turned on his heels to leave.

Brian sighed a breath of relief as the man left, eager to remove any possible obstacles to his imminent goal. Speaking of which, he smoothly doffed his shirt once again and hastily carried it over to the bedroom to lay it down on the dresser. He quickly returned to the kitchen area to open the bag he had placed on the counter and reach inside to retrieve his order: Oysters Valentino with whole wheat crackers, angel-hair pasta with fresh tomato sauce, and a large container of jumbo, chocolate-covered strawberries. He had decided for once to forgo his high-carbs ban after 7:00 and order the most sensual foods he could think of, but he was confident they wouldn't really be needed. Because if he had HIS way, Justin was going to be his appetizer, main course, AND dessert. _ALL...NIGHT...LONG._

* * *

Justin stood at the front door of Brian's loft building at precisely 6:55 p.m.; the bus driver had made unusually good time on his normal route and to his surprise had deposited him at the building early. He took a deep breath to try and calm his rapidly-beating heart and summon the courage to once again confront the man who had been stealthily stalking him in his dreams for several days now. _Last chance to back out now, Taylor_. He knew, though, that that was a lie – he had never really had a chance since the first second the other man had laid eyes on him.

He licked his lips to try and moisten them; just as he finally gathered up enough courage to buzz Brian's apartment and lifted his hand toward the intercom, the front door unexpectedly swung open, causing Justin to jump back a little in surprise. A handsome-looking redhead with vivid green eyes stood in front of him and studied him intently for a few seconds as if he was sizing him up.

"Huh," the man huffed snootily as he intently looked his "rival" up and down. "So _you're_ the reason he turned me down," he muttered. "He must like 'em young…or is it _hung?"_ he growled nastily, as he roughly pushed back from a startled Justin; it was all the blond could do to quickly reach out at the rapidly-closing front door and wedge one of his loafer-clad feet into it to prevent it from closing. He stood there, half in and half out of the doorway uncertainly as he tried to figure out who the irritated man was. Did Brian actually turn a trick _down?_ That certainly didn't sound like the larger-than-life man whose reputation had preceded him. Was it just possible that somehow Justin had managed to sneak into his heart just a little? At any rate, he decided that perhaps the element of surprise would serve him well here; something told him he was going to need every advantage he could get tonight.

Making a hasty judgment, he quickly slipped in through the front door and turned to take the steps slowly to give himself time to think as well as try to control his rapidly-beating heart.

* * *

Brian nestled the large glass bowl of chilled chocolate-covered strawberries on a bed of ice and set it on the nightstand next to his bed. Once he had walked back to the kitchen and transferred the entrée and appetizer into a warming dish and placed the two items in the oven on a low setting, Brian set about creating the right effect; similar to the other night, he walked over to the dimmer switch for his loft and turned the lights down to a more intimate glow; they were softly shining now, bright enough to see but dim enough to obtain the desired result. The entire loft space seemed to look smaller; more….._cozy_, more fuckable, almost like there were only a few steps between the living room and the bed. Funny, but it never occurred to him during his entire scene-staging that the ambience he had just created could be mistaken for being _romantic_, because Brian Kinney never did romance; at least that's what he always led everyone to believe, even himself. Whatever he would admit to calling it, however, he _was_ sure about one thing: tonight, there wouldn't be enough space between here and fucking _China_ to keep him from his goal tonight.

A soft shuffling noise behind him caused him to turn around in surprise toward the door and his breath caught in his throat. The object of his desire was standing there in the flesh. And, oh, what flesh it _was_. His own delectable Doughboy was standing there almost shyly, the low light from the loft casting him in a darkening shadow. There was enough light, though, to see the other man's red, V-neck tee-shirt that made his lips seemed ever more cherry red and kissable. And the bright vibrancy of the red contrasted perfectly with his pale skin and his eyes – they were shining with flecks of silver in them. As Brian's eyes slowly traveled down the hint of Justin's chest peeking out from the V of his shirt, his sweeping gaze leisurely journeyed downward to the man's jeans that were barely holding his slender body in; every bit of the man's petite frame was clearly outlined in those pants, from his blessedly large cock to that wonderfully-shaped ass – _fuck_, that ass; so perfectly rounded and just itching to be grabbed and suckled by Brian's experienced hands. He stood transfixed at his target as he observed that Justin finally had to turn his gaze away from Brian's continuing visual worship of him.

"Well, Doughboy, don't just stand there – we're wasting valuable time. Come in and shut the fucking door," he growled in greeting.

Justin licked his lips again, his only outward sign of nervousness. Inside, however, his heart was pumping furiously and his stomach was tied up in knots of anticipation. He knew there was no way he would be leaving tonight until they both got what they wanted. The only question was – what did he _want_? And how long could he play this cat and mouse game before he finally _gave in_? It wasn't like he hadn't been the object of pursuit before from an admirer; but this was a new, unexplored version of the game - one that he felt only Brian actually knew the rules to. But he was determined to at least try and hold his ground for a little while longer – if Brian WAS going to fuck him senseless, then by God, the man was going to have to _work_ for it. _Come on, Kinney…..Bring it on._

Brian stared in shock as he actually heard Justin _giggle_ softly as if he were having some silent conversation with himself before the man finally shut the door to his loft. What was the man _laughing at_? Well, he was going to wipe that smile off his face quickly. "Come here, Taylor," he commanded him sternly, waggling an index finger at him.

Justin's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up at the gruff tone in the other man's voice. The amusing thought he had just entertained quickly faded from sight as did his smile; the other man was staring at him so pointedly without blinking his eyes that Justin felt like he was in a tractor beam. _Control yourself, Taylor…Remember, make him WORK for it. _"I can hear you just fine from here, Brian," he chided him, placing his long-fingered hands on his hips. "What's for dinner?" he asked the loaded question innocently.

Brian smirked before answering huskily, "You already know the answer to that question, now don't you? Aren't you getting tired of the _head _games, Doughboy? Or would you like to try out some _new _head games? Come here and I'll _show you_ how they're done," he growled; he was quickly growing extremely weary as well as horny with this delaying tactic for what they both knew was coming – emphasis on the word _coming_. "You've got five seconds to get over here or I'm going to come over there and _fucking CARRY_ you to the bed."

Justin huffed and narrowed his eyes; what did Brian this he was – a _child?_ "You wouldn't dare," he said with steel in his voice; his pretense at conviction, however, was quickly melting away almost as rapidly as his determination to hold out as Brian slowly began to approach him stealthily with almost a cocky swagger now. His eyes bore into his at his continued to advance toward him; the closer he got, the wider Justin's eyes opened. He swallowed to try and wet his throat which was rapidly going dry as Brian got ever and ever closer to his target.

Brian smiled in triumph; he had caught Justin's hungry sweep of his eyes down his bare chest and toward his opened jeans; the look he was getting was precisely the same greedy look he was currently giving his prey. He noticed with amusement that as he neared his target, Justin began to slowly back up – right toward the bedroom. He couldn't have planned it better himself; his _dinner_ was moving right where he wanted to feast on him. He would start with his cock and then move on to that delicious ass and nibble and suck on every tasty inch in between. Something told him, though, that his appetite wouldn't be sated until well into the next morning. _Ah, the joys of being your own boss….._

Justin's temperature was rising rapidly along with a certain part of his anatomy as Brian Kinney continued to advance mercilessly. He hurriedly realized that this particular little blond mouse was no match for a dark, dangerous jungle cat like THIS man; he knew without a doubt when he unexpectedly felt his legs hit a ledge behind him; the step between the bedroom and the living room. He had been so mesmerized by the concentrated, leering look of lust on the other man's face that he hadn't even noticed where he was being led – right to the slaughter. And Brian Kinney was rapidly coming in for the kill right now as he smiled broadly and actually laughed softly. Seconds after Justin tripped on his feet, Brian reached out to catch him by grabbing his shoulders and pulling him roughly against him.

Justin could feel Brian's hot breath on his face and his hard cock brushing up against his stomach as the man whispered, "I'm not used to having to _catch_ my dinner before I eat it. Now you've got me _all hot and bothered_. What should we do about that, Doughboy?" he growled.

Justin swallowed hard and bit his lower lip. What, indeed? The answer was quite simple, however. There could only be ONE answer tonight. _To HELL with it. _Where he got the boldness to answer the other man, he will never know. But that still didn't stop him from replying, "I guess you'll just have to _satisfy your appetite_, then, won't you?" he huskily dared him.

Brian's smile of delight got even wider as he whispered, "That's the best fucking dinner invitation I've ever received" before his smile quickly disappeared to be replaced by a look of sheer predatory resolve as he smashed his lips against Justin's.

As Brian continued to grind his lips against his mouth, Justin's head was spinning as the man prevented him from thinking any rational thoughts; all he could feel were the firm lips and tongue invading his mouth and the man's skillful hands seemingly _everywhere. _His previous intelligent idea to wear the V-neck for quicker disposal became irrelevant as Brian somehow managed to _RIP_ his shirt in two and tear it from his chest in seconds. He gasped in Brian's mouth then as he felt his hands adeptly opening his jeans and warm fingers snaking inside to fondle his cock expertly.

He moaned as he came up briefly for breath and Brian growled; he crashed his lips crash back down on his. The man wasn't just taking a nibble of dinner – he was _devouring_ him, bones and all. Bones that had somehow become spineless and rubbery in his possessive embrace. This was like a hurricane, tornado, and flood all wrapped into one magnificent, perfect storm. How in the hell did he ever think he could have stood up against _this_?

Finally, Brian tore his mouth away from Justin's red, swollen, thoroughly ravaged lips while the blond took rapid breaths to replenish his oxygen supply. And just like in his vision earlier, the two men stared at his each other, breathing heavily and both knowing the inevitability of what was about to happen. Brian's eyes never turned away from Justin's as he released the blond long enough to reach down and unsnap his own jeans open the rest of the way; as they conveniently dropped toward the floor, he deftly stepped out of them, never breaking eye contact with his _dinner_. Justin didn't dare look down because he knew what he would see and he would be totally, irrevocably _lost_. He knew the man was now totally bare in his glorious nakedness and he was all Brian's, just as he suspected Brian would be all his. Brian smirked; he knew Justin was surrendering – there was no need now to hold him prisoner in his arms for fear he would escape. His own little Doughboy wasn't going _anywhere_ now. He reached over to open the blond's jeans wide as his heard Justin's breath hitch. He _slowly_ parted them, relishing the sight, before he grasped both the band of the jeans and the briefs to pull them expertly down together. "Take them off," he growled in command. "NOW." Justin's breath was coming out of his mouth in short huffs as he managed to kick off his loafers and remove his jeans and briefs to step out of them; he noticed as he finally stood there completely nude that Brian's mouth turned up in approval and his eyes darkened noticeably at the sight of his body trembling before him.

"God, you are so fucking beautiful," he couldn't help telling Justin; it was _true_, his pale body was perfectly proportioned from his slender, smooth chest down to his small waist and long artist's fingers. The blue eyes were like endless oceans and the golden hair shown softly. As he looked Justin up and down from his head to his toes, his eyes lingered appreciatively on his cock nestled just below a thatch of golden, curly hair. "Turn around," he ordered the blond, whose face reddened at the tone of his voice and the unabashed admiration of his body. He nevertheless slowly turned so his back was to Brian's. His face flushed even more as he heard Brian give a soft whistle and whisper, "Absolutely, fucking delicious," before his whole body went into overdrive as he felt Brian's body rub up against his backside and a pair of long, hot hands snake around his waist to aim toward his cock. "Time for the _appetizer first_, Doughboy," he growled as Brian placed one hand possessively on Justin's stomach and traced smooth circles on it as his other hand began to slide up and down his shaft expertly. Justin groaned in sensory ecstasy as Brian paused for a few seconds to wipe some fluid from the tip that was leaking unheeded. "Oh, God," he cried; at the rate Brian was going, he was going to come before they even got _started_. He felt Brian's breath on his cheek and his hand increasing in speed and pressure as he felt his climax quickly building. How does this man do _this to him?_ He began to sag in the other man's embrace as his knees began to buckle from the physical stimulation; he was helpless to stop what was happening as his body craved release.

All it took then was for Brian to huskily growl one sentence, especially that goofy nickname, "Give it to me, _Doughboy_," before he came hard with a loud cry. Brian's hand was showered with the sticky, milky substance as Justin sagged in his embrace; he loosened his hold on him just enough to turn him around to face him before he hungrily brought his fingers up to his mouth for a taste of what he had been craving for so long. "Mmmm," he declared. "The appetizer is _delicious_," he decided, as Justin tried to regain his bearings. "But I'm ready for the _main course now_." He took Justin's hands and began to pull him determinedly over to the bed; he leaned over briefly to pick up a towel he had conveniently lay nearby to wipe Justin's come off the pale belly and legs before he unexpectedly pushed him down face up onto the bed.

"Brian," was all Justin could manage to breathe out as Brian climbed smugly onto the bed at his feet and kneeled in front of him between his legs like some living, breathing Adonis status; only _this_ statue was so much more incredible than any work of marble he had ever seen. This creature was too good to be real, from the tanned, taut, flat abdomen to the long, lean arms, the full lips, the darkening hazel eyes, the tousled, devil-may-care auburn hard and the definite _piece de resistance_, his full, thick, oh-so-REAL cock that was presently hard as steel and primed for some heavy-duty pumping action.

Brian smirked at his victory, and oh, what a _sweet_ victory it was going to be. He had been pursuing this particular prize all week and from the little taste he had already indulged in, it was going to be the tastiest and most satisfying feast in which he ever participated. "Do you have any idea, _Doughboy_, just what you've put me through this past week?" he huskily snarled. He leaned down now and supported his body on his elbows as he stared into the wide-eyed blue orbs staring back at him that were mesmerized by the sound of his voice. Justin could feel the man's rock-hard cock teasing his quivering stomach as it swung back and forth on the sensitive skin like some sexy pendulum. "Do you realize what you've _done_?"

Justin swallowed and shook his head slightly; apparently he hadn't realized just what pleasurable fury he was about to unleash by their sensual cat and mouse dance.

"Well, you're about to find out, _Mr. Taylor_," Brian growled as he leaned in and purposely ground his groin against Justin's, producing a loud moan of exquisite torment from his captive; with smug satisfaction Brian noted his Doughboy's cock was _rising_ once again to the occasion; first, though, there was another matter that needed attending to. "You like that, _Doughboy?"_ Brian purred in the blond's ear as he alternatively licked, suckled and nipped at the other man's delicate flesh around his collarbone; his lower body dipped and rose as it simulated a sexy sort of erotic push up and made Justin even hornier. Every touch of his body against the brunet's caused his heart to race and his entire body to tremble; even though he didn't have a stitch of clothing on, he felt like the loft's thermostat must be set on 150 degrees because his body was burning up with desire. The deep, throaty sound of Brian's voice, even as he continued to taunt him with that silly nickname, the man's masterful teasing of his body, and his musky, masculine smell was driving him _crazy_ – so crazy that he found he had lost the ability to speak; all he could do was simply nod in response to Brian's question. _God, YES, he liked that._

Brian smiled. "To the victor go the spoils, Doughboy," he drawled. "I've had my appetizer – now it's time to move on the _main course_." Brian was delighted to find that his numerous fantasies about this moment had been wrong; the real thing was so much _better_ than even HE could have imagined. He knew the sex was going to be incredible, but what he didn't count on were the feelings Justin was engendering just by _looking_ at him like he was right now – sort of a mixture of sensual ecstasy, wonder, and part adoration all rolled into one compact, efficient package. Whatever you would call it, all he knew was that it was turning him on like crazy and as Justin flicked his tongue out briefly over his bottom lip nervously, Brian thought he looked sexy as hell. "What do you want, _Justin_?" His voice dripped with desire as he slowly drew out the man's other name – his _real_ name for a change – and caused Justin's breath to catch in his throat; the blond had no idea how sexy his name could be until it was seductively whispered by the man presently towering over him and demanding to know his wishes. _What did he just ask him?_

His "Good Justin" was telling him it still wasn't too late to push the ardent man away and get out the hell out of there with at least part of his dignity intact; however, his body was loudly broadcasting quite the opposite idea as he practically keened at the delicious torment being thrust upon him. _What was the question again?_ His head was spinning in a wonderful vortex of sensations as Brian leaned down again and licked a path from his sternum over to his left nipple and gave it a bite before tugging it upward with his teeth; it was both painful and extremely arousing at the same time. His quickly heating body felt the shock of the wet, warm tongue as it trailed a moist path from his left nipple over to his right to give equal attention to it as well. He felt like a warm, soft, blanket of flesh was surrounding him, closing in on him like a well-fitted cocoon as he looked down to see a tousled, auburn-colored head bobbing up and down in time with the swirling patterns of Brian's tongue around his peaked nipple before he gave that one a bite, also.

Brian finally raised his head to stare into Justin's eyes that were large and expressive. "Ding, ding, ding, _Doughboy_, time's _UP_," he growled low and raspy. "Time to take the _main entrée_ out and _EAT it_." Brian had waited long enough for Justin's response; it was _HIS _turn now to turn the heat up farther and do what he had been wanting to do since the second he had seen him. "Turn over," he grounded out commandingly, leaving no room for argument – not that Justin was in any shape to say anything in his extremely horny state, "I think some _buns_ need attention." He didn't give Justin time to respond verbally anyway before he deftly rolled impatiently to the side of his _delectable dish_ and firmed pushed him over; Brian's breath was taken away by the treat waiting for him: two, almost impossibly rounded globes of the most succulent, pale, soft but firm flesh he had ever had the privilege of seeing on one of his tricks, except that this particular man was NO trick. He was a man who could make him think, say and do things he had never thought was possible before; a man whose presence could linger in his thoughts long after his physical body was out of sight. No, this man could never be a casual fuck. _God, what I have gotten myself INTO?_

He couldn't wait any longer, though, to debate the complexities of his feelings for this man – he just knew at that moment he had to HAVE him - ALL of him. He would start with the most appetizing part of all – those two perky, rounded cheeks practically begging to be fucked by his generous cock. He sat down on Justin's lower legs and stared briefly at the treasure he was about to explore; he noticed with shock that his hands actually trembled a little as he slowly reached out to place his palms around the soft curves. He heard Justin make a soft sound, almost like a purr, as he finally began to knead his own little _Doughboy_'s soft flesh. He couldn't even accurately identify the sensations that were coursing through his body at the feel of that skin under his hands and the soft whimpers coming from Justin's lips as he squeezed and caressed his ass in reverence. _God, what this man could DO to him! _He didn't dare tell Justin what enormous power he had over him, however; it scared the shit out of him to let anyone know that the great Brian Kinney was being deeply affected, physically as well as emotionally, by this blond, spunky spitfire of a man.

He noticed Justin turn his head to the side and stare up at him in a glaze of desire. He leaned down over Justin's back, his breath hot and light on his skin as he whispered to him, "I bet when you were young your grandparents said you looked good enough to eat. Let's just find out HOW good, shall we?" he growled, before he swooped down and began to lick another wet path with his flattened tongue down the center of his back. He tasted some saltiness while he passed through the sweat-slicked, pale skin as he ever-so-slowly traveled lower and lower toward his intended target; he was possessively holding the two delectable globes in his own rapidly-perspiring hands. He felt Justin's body shudder in pleasurable torment as he finally reached his goal – the twitching, puckered, pink rosebud hole. He rather roughly parted the two fleshy cheeks with his hands and laboriously ran his tongue through the crease as he felt Justin try to buck off the bed in torment. "Uh, uh, uh, _Doughboy_," he growled as he held his horny captive down firmly with his hands and pressed him into the bed. "I'm just getting to the _tastiest_ part of my meal." Seconds later, he curled his stiffened tongue and roughly thrust it inside the pulsing cavern. He began to move his tongue in and out, in and out, feeling his cock hardening painfully as he heard Justin crying out in almost unbearable pleasure.

"Fuck!" Justin managed to gasp out; his chest was heaving from the overload of sensory pleasure. Damn the man – if he didn't stop with the tongue-fucking right now, he was going to come _again_, before Brian even climaxed for the first time. He wondered how much more his body could take before he had a heart attack right there in Brian's bed. "Brian," he huffed out, "Stop." He wanted Brian inside him when he came, not THIS way.

He heard Brian chuckle as he finally pulled his tongue out of his hole; Justin hurried to gulp in a rush of air to try and begin breathing again. "_Wrong_, Doughboy! You don't _want_ me to stop…..You're horny as hell. You just need a little _meat tenderizer_," he growled. Justin thought he was going to faint from ecstasy as he felt Brian jab a long, lean finger in his hole; Brian knew his curled finger had hit the right spot when Justin suddenly keened and his toes curled under in response to the unbelievable arousal; he knew he was _so close_….so close to devouring his entire meal now. Just a couple more expertly-placed, scissored fingers and Justin would be practically _begging_ to be consumed by his cock. As he pulled his finger out, he didn't give his_ Doughboy's_ breathing any time to return to a sense of normalcy as he boldly replaced one of his fingers with a companion digit.

"Oh, God!" Justin tried frantically to buck Brian off the bed along with him as he felt the brunet deftly scissor his two fingers inside him; Brian marveled at how incredibly tight Justin was, and knew he couldn't possibly wait any longer. His cock was leaking profusely from the lack of attention and he needed to satisfy his appetite _completely_ now. He leaned over Justin's back as his hot breath teased the quivering skin, his voice a low, raspy, barely-controlled whisper as he announced, "Time to break out the _skewer_, _Doughboy,"_ as he reached over impatiently to grab the lube and one of the condoms he had placed on the nightstand. He reluctantly removed his hands that had been continually caressing Justin's ass as he ripped open the condom impatiently and with barely-controlled anticipation managed to roll it onto his cock. He heard Justin's ragged pants and felt his body moving rapidly up and down beneath him in time with the blond's quickened breaths as he popped open the lube and squirted a generous amount onto his hands. He rolled it in his palms for a few seconds to try and warm it somewhat; but he could only tolerate a brief moment of that action; he knew he had to be inside that tight, warm cavern _NOW_.

Justin gasped in shock as the slightly cold cream was spread around his hole and held his breath. This was the moment that had been ordained for the two of them since the second they had locked gazes. He closed his eyes as if it were too exquisitely painful to watch Brian about to fuck him, not realizing that having his eyes shut only seemed to heighten the incredible sensation as he began to feel Brian's generous, thick cock demanding entrance. "Oh, my God!" he cried again as he felt Brian began to penetrate his tight hole.

Brian, too, closed his eyes; he didn't have words to describe the moment his cock began to imbed itself into Justin's hole; he was _so wonderfully_ tight. He could only give Justin a few seconds to adjust to his girth before he had to push in further; the sensations were just too incredible to stop now. His whole body thrummed with passion as he began to push deeper and deeper into that tight, hot, path; as Justin began to moan loudly and move in rhythm with his thrusting, Brian knew he wasn't going to last long. Despite having fucked what must have been hundreds of tricks by now, he had _never_ felt so incredibly aroused in his life as he did at that moment. The sounds Justin was making, the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of that wonderfully constrictive ass, and the warm, soft flesh being ravaged by his clenching hands made his head spin and his pulse to quicken to the point where he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest.

"Fuck! You are so tight, _Doughboy…._SO incredibly tight," he marveled as his pace quickened urgently toward the culmination of a desire that had begun so long ago. At last….at last he was about to feast to his heart's content. As he crept closer and closer to his climax, he felt like a watch being wound up tighter and tighter until he finally came with a fury in an explosion of sight, feel and sound. As he collapsed on top of Justin, he only faintly heard his lover's final cry of surrender as he felt the heated, sweat-soaked body underneath him heaving with a gasping plea for air to return to his lungs.

Brian remained imbedded inside Justin for a few seconds longer, relishing in the feel of the soft, trembling body lying under him. He heard Justin groan in disappointment as he finally pulled out reluctantly to turn over onto his back. Both men were too emotionally and physically sated to speak as their vigorous _dining_ exercise had exhausted both of them.

Thoughts of partaking of _dessert _a little later filtered through Brian's mind, but his Doughboy had managed in wearing him out temporarily. He felt sleep beginning to invade his body as he looked over at the incredible blond vision lying spent next to him.

Justin couldn't believe the emotions rushing through him as he lay there next to Brian; what he imagined he would feel paled next to the reality of the actual feelings this man had managed to generate in him. Just before his own eyes fluttered closed in fatigue, Justin felt a warm, taut leg brush up against his as he instinctively surrendered to his heart's desire and turned to be enfolded into Brian's waiting arms.


	15. Chapter 15: Unforgettable

_Brian's Loft – Mid Morning, Next Day_

Justin was having the most wonderful dream as he lay in bed. He was dreaming once again, of course, about Brian – the man who he couldn't stop thinking of. The two of them were lying in bed after an endless round of fucking the night before. The dream was so vivid he thought he could actually feel the other man's warm body on top of him as it pressed down against his own, smaller frame; he could almost smell the other's man unique, musky, masculine scent.

And there was something else….._strawberries_. And _chocolate_. One of his favorite food combinations. He could literally _smell _the wonderful fragrance.

The sudden feeling of an smooth, cold object against his lips brought Justin crashing back into reality, because as his cock began to harden, he quickly realized the warm body he had imagined completely covering his and the wonderful mixture of Brian Kinney and chocolate-covered strawberries that he had imagined smelling wasn't some delicious dream – it was a delicious _reality_. "Wakey, wakey, Doughboy," he heard a sexy drawl coming from above him as he felt the strawberry pressed a little more firmly against his lips. "Your yeast is _rising_." His eyelids fluttered open from their sleep-induced state to see the object of his fantasy looming over him, smiling wickedly. Brian had a large-sized, chocolate-coated berry dangling in front of his lips, holding it by the stem as he straddled Justin's waist. "Ready for a little _dessert_?" he whispered huskily as he swung the berry side to side tantalizingly.

Justin smiled; _two could play this little game of seduction_. As Brian held the chocolate-covered strawberry immobile again in front of his lips, he slowly opened his mouth wide enough so he could accommodate all of Brian's fingers in his mouth. As he took a bite of the wonderfully-sweet fruit, his lips lingered several seconds on the other wonderful part of his treat – Brian's fingers. As Brian finally removed his fingers from his mouth, Justin raised his hands above his head to stretch as his lower body wriggled underneath the other man's, sighing in contentment; he noticed with a degree of smug satisfaction that the other man groaned as his groin came into contact with his.

Aphrodisiac food was temporarily forgotten as Brian practically fell on top of Justin and grabbed his hands to hold his sexy prisoner still. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to play with fire, _little boy?_" he whispered as they locked eyes and their noses nudged each other. As Justin smiled at him innocently, Brian's initial idea to feed his Doughboy another strawberry so he could feel those luscious lips suck on his fingers again was replaced with a sudden yearning to feel those lips somewhere else, instead, as he angled his head and smashed his mouth down on Justin's. He decided the taste of a chocolate-covered, strawberry-scented Justin was simply scrumptious. What he _couldn't _believe was how this man affected him; he had _never_ felt this way about anyone before. This man was going to be the fucking _death_ of him; but how much wicked fun the journey was going to be...

The wonderful whimpering sounds Justin was making during their kiss only served to inflame his desire even more; even though the couple had awakened after their initial round of fucking last night to go another couple of rounds before total exhaustion finally overcame them, just one kiss from this man and a not-so-subtle wriggling of his slim little hips later, he was ready to go another round again this morning.

He finally tore his mouth away from Justin's to begin nibbling his way from the man's slender, pale neck down to the middle of his chest on a determined path to his cock as he continued to hold his hands hostage.

"Brian," he heard Justin protest in a breathless plea. "I want to _touch _you," he beseeched him; Brian's kisses and nibbles were driving him crazy, not to mention the man's steel-hard cock which was sliding lazily down along with the rest of his body.

"You'll get your turn, _Doughboy_, don't worry," he drawled; he chuckled wickedly as he heard Justin groan in torment when he finally latched onto his intended target with his mouth. "Bri-an," he heard Justin whine as he writhed underneath the other man's expert torment. The man was _not _playing fair. Justin had always heard it was never a good idea to tease the wild animals at the zoo; _now he knew WHY_ as he struggled to even _breath_ under the man's expert tongue and lips.

It only took a few minutes of watching Brian's head bobbing up and down and feeling him sucking enthusiastically on his cock as he continued to hold him immobile before his body tightened and he released his load into the welcoming mouth. As his body heaved in the pleasurable aftermath, he fought to get his breathing under control as Brian finally released his hands from captivity and rolled off him to lean on his side to face Justin, his body supported by his elbow. "Now _that's _what I call a great way to start the day," he practically purred. At that moment, as he looked over at this man who was practically shining with sated happiness, the lesbionic thought that he could never get enough of this man filtered through his mind. _How had he managed it?_ Brian never fucked the same guy more than once, let alone over and over again with the idea that he could never get enough. Just what was it about this man that continued to enthrall him to the point where he couldn't even _think_ straight? All he knew was - it both excited and scared the _hell_ out of him.

"I can hear you thinking all the way over there," Justin said breathlessly as he stared back, wide-eyed, at his _tormentor_. "I think you need to do less thinking and more _dining_," he whispered playfully, his eyes twinkling as he reached out to lightly run his fingers over Brian's firm chest; he watched, fascinated, as he saw the brunet's taut skin ripple under his touch. The power that he seemed to have over this larger-than-life, sexy man helped embolden him to reach out and possessively grab Brian's cock to give it a squeeze. "I think it's MY turn for dessert now," he growled as he rolled over and pushed Brian down on the bed.

As he lay there with Justin lying on top of him, he decided that he _liked_ this new, aggressive Doughboy; he knew his _cock_ sure did, because it was hard as a rock and leaking profusely from the concerted attention. Not to mention the exquisite feeling of having the soft, warm body that seemed to complement his so well perfectly molding itself against him. He watched through lowered eyelids, fascinated, as Justin began to slowly crawl down his body, seemingly delighting in drawing out the torment. _The little fucker sure knew how to imitate his style_,_ and he did it very well_, he thought as he groaned at the sensations quickly overwhelming him. He reached down and ruffled the soft, golden hair as Justin's plump lips wrapped themselves around his cock and he began to play him like a well-loved song. It was _his_ turn now to arch up into the tender yet excruciatingly delightful touch of his lover's mouth on his cock; he found himself so turned on simply by Justin's hand rubbing light circles on his thigh as he continued his diligent ministrations. He was profoundly stunned by the feelings being invoked in him – just when he thought he couldn't feel any more pleasurable torture from this little spitfire, the man took him to even _newer _heights. Brian had always prided himself on being the controlling partner; but with _this_ man, he inexplicably felt _out_ of control. It wasn't long under his Doughboy's loving attention that he felt the tightening throughout his body and he came with a shuddering, earth-shattering climax.

As the two of them lay there moments later, both too tired to begin anew, Brian had one more thing he needed to discover. He reached over and lightly tickled the side of Justin's waist. He laughed mischievously as he heard the other man's response. _Just what I thought._

Justin slapped his hand away and struggled to regain his breath. "What did you do _THAT_ for?" he demanded breathlessly. He tried to act annoyed but found that he just couldn't as he glared over at Brian, who was smiling playfully. It was a look that Justin hadn't really seen before, and he decided he _liked_ this side of his lover.

"Just as I thought," Brian said out loud in a satisfied tone. "You _do _giggle – just like the other one. Although I dare say NOT for the same reason. It DOES put a whole new spin on "deflouring" someone, though."

"Ha, ha," Justin remarked as he crossed his arms in feigned annoyance. "You'd laugh too if someone tickled you like that," he countered.

Brian chuckled at Justin's fake pout; this man was simply adorable. "No, Doughboy, you didn't laugh," he advised him. "You _giggled_ – just like your little namesake."

Justin rolled his eyes but nonetheless had to smile back at the brunet. "Okay…..so I'm ticklish. What about _you_?" he said challengingly.

As Justin turned toward Brian, the brunet warned him, "Don't even go there, Doughboy."

Justin's smile widened even further at this revelation. _So…..it appears I'm not the ONLY one who's ticklish._ "Justin…" he heard his soon-to-be-victim warn him again in an ominous tone. That didn't deter him, however, from his objective; in fact, it encouraged him even more as he quickly pounced on top of Brian and began to lightly strum his fingers up and down Brian's side, eliciting a round of giggles….._yes, GIGGLES_….from the normally so-much-in-control ad executive.

"Justin! Stop it, you twat!" Brian cried out breathlessly in between attempts to take in oxygen; his little blond tormentor just kept tickling him as if he were deaf; he was enjoying himself too immensely to stop just yet while he actually had the upper hand for a change.

"I'm warning you, Doughboy!" he sternly admonished him, as his arms flailed out to grasp the other man's wrists. "Tickling me will have dramatic consequences!"

Justin feigned mock fright. "Ooh…I'm _scared_. Is the big bad man going to _hurt _me?" His eyes were twinkling with mischief now as he and Brian began a battle of supremacy over who would stop the other man first. Brian's bigger size and body strength eventually prevailed, however, as he finally managed to capture both of the slender wrists and flip both of them over.

Brian's eyes raked over his captive hungrily. "Doughboy...you have NO clue - you're about to find yourself in a _world_ of HURT." If he had HIS way, he planned on fucking this man over and over again until he couldn't even STAND up straight.

Lying beneath him, Justin laughed that delicious-sounding giggle again that seemed to send wanton sensations straight down to Brian's cock as he peered down at the vision below him: a thoroughly tousled-headed, blond-haired, blue-eyed hellcat of a man who would dare to challenge him, confront him, defy him, and – dare he say it? – _equal_ him in so many ways. This man was a neverending delight to him and constantly amazed him. He couldn't wait to find out even more about what made Justin Taylor tick. But first things first. As Justin's laughter slowly died down to be replaced by a smile of unfooled happiness, Brian decided he needed to _satisfy his appetite_ once more. He intertwined their hands together above Justin's head and stared at his little Doughboy's shining blue eyes intently as he whispered, "Ready for a little more _action?_

As Brian slowly and sensually plundered his lips anew, Justin decided if this was Brian's way of _hurting _him, he would welcome this type of pain any day.

* * *

An hour later, the two men emerged from yet one more round of fucking, this time in the shower. As Justin stood in front of Brian's bathroom mirror, trying to plaster his now-wet hair down into more of a manageable look, he saw the brunet walk up to him, still wearing only a thick, red towel around his waist and a devilish smile. Justin recognized that smile, as Brian wrapped his hands around Justin's chest and leaned into him from behind. He remembered, also, what had happened the _last_ time Brian had been wearing only a towel.

"Brian…No way! I have school and you told me you had to get to work," he scolded him, his breath catching in his throat as the other man nibbled and laved the side of his neck. He reached up and laid a hand on top of the auburn hair as Brian continued to nuzzle him as if he were the tastiest treat on a menu.

"I'm just sampling some of the appetizer to keep me energized for the rest of the day," Brian announced sensibly into his neck, relishing the silky, warm feel of Justin's skin as he lingered on the pulse spot, noticing to his satisfaction that the blond's pulse was speeding up the longer he paid attention to it.

Justin smacked him softly on the head. "Bri-an!" he protested feebly. His attempt at a more vehement objection, however, died on his lips as Brian hands started to roam all over his chest, getting increasingly lower and lower while he pressed his chiseled body against his ass…..Justin managed to catch his breath for just a moment when Brian stopped caressing him briefly; but as soon as Justin figured out _WHY_ he had stopped, his breath caught in his throat altogether as he was whirled around to face a now completely-nude, purely maliciously evil Brian Kinney, who was leering at him intently. Brian huskily growled some silly, wild takeoff on the classic Doughboy jingle, declaring that _Nothing beats lovin' like Justin when he's comin_' just before he slammed his lips against the blond's mouth and began his latest heavenly assault. Just as he was dragged over to the bed, Justin's last sane thought was that he would never look at cherry popovers quite the same way again…..

_

* * *

_

_An hour later_

"Quit fidgeting!" Justin chided the taller man, as he reached up to pull Brian's tie tighter and straighten out the knot. "Will you stand _still!_ Jeez – you're a worse fidgeter than _Gus!"_

"There is no such word as _fidgeter_," Brian helpfully pointed out as he held onto Justin's arms with his hands. It wasn't as if he needed to for balance or anything – he simply enjoyed the feeling at the moment.

"Well, thanks for the spelling lesson," Justin muttered as he stood back to examine his work. He had to admit as he looked the professionally-dressed brunet over from head to toe – Brian looked almost as good _dressed_ as he did _undressed_…almost but not quite, he decided as he smiled to himself. The past several hours since he had arrived at Brian's loft had been some of the most exciting, exhilarating, and happiest times of his life. This man had taken him on the most sensual, wildest roller-coaster ride he had ever ridden, and he couldn't wait to go up and down some more of the twists and turns with him.

"Like what you see, _Doughboy_?" Brian smirked as he noticed Justin's admiring gaze. "You keep looking at me that way and all your _hard_ work will have been for nothing," Brian huskily murmured; he noticed to his satisfaction that Justin's face flushed at the insinuation. "Come back here and you can start _all over again_."

Unfortunately for Brian, however, common sense prevailed with his lover, who wasn't about to get ensnared by this smoldering flame that was about to go supernova any instant. "Oh, no you don't, Mr. Kinney," Justin retorted with his hands on his hips. "You stay away from me," he declared, putting his hands out in front of himself for protection as Brian chuckled and slowly began to advance closer. One more kiss from those sexy, plush lips or one more roaming touch from those skilled hands and Justin knew he wouldn't be getting out of the man's loft for several more hours. "You've already succeeded in making me miss my first class thanks to your insistence at having a _breakfast encore,_ as you called it….one MORE round and I'll miss my _next_ class, too. Besides, I have to make sure you actually go into work at some point to ensure that the check you gave me for my fee doesn't _bounce_."

Brian stopped long enough to peer over at Justin as if he were wounded. "I'm _insulted,_ Mr. Taylor," he bantered back good-naturedly. "I'll have you know my checks do not _bounce_."

Justin could imagine _something_ bouncing right then if the man hadn't thankfully been wearing clothes. Brian instantly picked up on Justin's train of thought as he chuckled even louder now. "Gotcha, Doughboy," he mischievously cracked, as he assumed his stalking.

"I _mean it_, Brian," Justin affirmed more sternly as he started backing up, thankfully toward the door this time; at least he wasn't being corralled into the man's bedroom for a change. But he _also _knew this man definitely was aware of his weak point; if he let him get within touching distance, he was a _goner_.

Short of running to catch up with him, Brian knew he wouldn't be able to nab this particular tasty prize again this morning. He sighed in muted resignation, sentenced to having to wait until later to get another nibble or two…or three or four…

"Do you have to work tonight?" Brian heard the words blurted out of his mouth before he could catch himself; was he actually wanting to see this man _again _after the numerous rounds of fucking last night and this morning? What happened to his one time per customer rule? Just what _was_ it about this blond dynamo that intrigued him so? Any other time and he would have been fully sated and ready to move onto the next challenge – just what was _happening _here? Was it because Justin had played so _hard_ to get that made him want him even _more_? Or as much as he absolutely hated to admit it, was he feeling something more toward his little _Doughboy_ than just plain old lust? Could he actually be starting to _care_ about this man? Just like his ruminations of last night, the thought of this possibility both thrilled and scared the hell out of him as it invaded his mind.

"_What_ did you say?" Brian suddenly asked; he looked over at Justin sheepishly. He could tell Justin had said something, but he had been so lost in thought that he hadn't really heard _what_ he said.

Justin gave him an amused look as he stood near the door. "I _said_…I have to work at the deli later tonight but I don't have to report there until 7:00. My last class is over at 3:00." Justin was trying his best to keep his voice level and nonchalant as he answered Brian's question, but inside his body was jumping up and down in glee because this man actually _wanted_ to be with him AGAIN, and from what everyone had told him, Brian didn't do repeats. Could that mean, then, that Brian really _did_ care for him? His heart soared at the thought – as much as he hated to admit it, he had already given part of his _own_ heart to this enigmatic and complex man the first time they had met; last night had just made him fall even more irretrievably harder for him.

Brian furiously thought of a way to see Justin again before he went to work at the deli. He knew he really should put in several hours at Kinnetik to get caught up – he had been neglecting his work a little lately since this adorable little spitfire had entered his life – but as lesbionic as it sounded, he just couldn't wait to be with this man _again._ Besides, Theodore and Cynthia were paid quite nicely to make sure the office ran smoothly while he was away – they would just have to work a little more diligently for a while so their boss could enjoy a little R and R with his very own _personal chef_.

Speaking of which, he noticed to his chagrin that Justin was standing by the door, waiting for his response. "Uh…" he almost stammered. Berating himself internally for his sudden lack of glibness, he continued as he tried hard to sound casual, "You want to catch a bite to eat before you go to work?"

Justin's heart hammered in his chest; was this man asking him out on a _date?_ He quickly thought better of that. First of all, he had the feeling Brian didn't DO dates – at least not go OUT on one. And secondly, even if by some miracle he actually _WAS_ asking him out on a date, he sure wasn't going to CALL him on it. If Brian realized he was starting to feel something for him, it would no doubt cause him to make a hasty retreat. Better, then, to act like it was no big deal, even though his heart was threatening to come out of his chest at the moment. He was proud of himself for the calm tone of voice he displayed as he answered, "Uh…..yeah…..that'd be okay. Where do you want to eat?"

Brian gave that some thought; he would much rather just feast on _Justin_ again here at the loft, but he figured by later this evening, Justin might actually want some _food_, too. The deli where the blond worked would be convenient, but not very exciting – after all, the man was there all the time. The diner? He tried to think about when Debbie would be working there – was she working the day or night shift lately? He remembered seeing her during the dinner shift late last week, and she normally alternated her schedule, so he assumed she had been assigned the breakfast crowd for the upcoming week. Hopefully, then, she wouldn't be there this evening when he and Justin arrived; if she got wind that he was actually _interested_ in Justin, he would never hear the end of it.

"How about the Liberty Diner – do you know where it _is?" _He knew he wasn't being very creative, but at least he felt comfortable there. Now if he could just avoid running into Debbie or one of his friends…His desire to be with this man again, however, outweighed the possibility as he held his breath and waited for Justin to respond.

"Yeah, I know it...the one on the corner of Liberty and Fremont?" he asked.

Brian nodded. "That's the one. I'll see you at 5:30." He made it sound like more of a command rather than a question – he still wanted to maintain the illusion that HE was in charge here, even though he knew in truth this man was rapidly succeeding in wrapping him around his sexy and very talented artist's finger.

_Stay calm, Taylor….don't let him see what he's doing to you inside – turning you into a giant pool of MUSH_. "Oh, okay," he replied casually. "I….got to go. I need to stop by my place and pick up my books. I'll see you later then."

Brian returned his gaze with a shadow of a smile as he simply nodded and replied, "Later."

Justin nodded his agreement and stood there for a few seconds longer as if he were trying to memorize this sexy man's image so it would be ingrained in his mind for the duration of their separation; he knew, though, that even if he were away from him, he wouldn't have any problem keeping this man uppermost in his mind – the man was fucking _unforgettable_. Even if his mind wasn't whirling with constant images of the man while he was at school today, his sore, thoroughly-fucked ass would be a graphic and vivid reminder of just what they had shared for the last several hours. Brian smirked as he noticed Justin's face turning red – he could only imagine what his little _Doughboy_ was thinking – probably the same thing HE was thinking, only he could keep his pulsating libido hidden better than the younger man apparently could.

As Justin slid the loft's door open, he turned and smiled a nervous smile at Brian as he repeated the brunet's parting word. "Later," he said softly, as he finally turned around and propelled himself firmly toward the stairs before he had a chance to change his mind.


	16. Chapter 16: A Date with Heartbreak

**A/N: Beware - Angst Alert! Into the "Sunshine" a little rain must fall. Don't kill me - you KNOW it can't be all sunshine and roses all the time...you've been warned...**

* * *

_Tuesday Mid-Afternoon – PIFA_

For at least the tenth time that afternoon, Justin glanced over at the clock above the classroom door; his class on art history was taking _way_ too much time today; the normal 50-minute period seemed to have lasted about 50 HOURS already. Why was it taking so fucking long to _end_? Could it be because his mind was concentrating, instead, on his dinner with Brian later at the Liberty Diner? Just the thought of being near that gorgeous man with the body that wouldn't quit and his oh-so-sexy voice made his heart start to race again and the beginning of a tell-tale, inconvenient hard-on to appear. He tried desperately to think of something, _anything _else, to occupy his mind, but it was simply no use. After the two of them had made love last night – Justin knew it was sophomoric and ridiculous to think about it that way, but that's what he considered it – _making love_ – after they had made love last night several times, and again this morning, it was all he could think of now. The man's expert stroking of his body and his hard, thick cock slamming into him over and over again quickly made him feel hot all over. He was finally sitting in his last class of the day – why was it dragging on _forever?_

"Mr. Taylor?" he suddenly heard his name being called; he looked around sheepishly as he observed everyone else in the class staring at him, including his teacher. _Fuck_. "Yes?" he answered somewhat stupidly; he had no idea the teacher had apparently been calling on him until now.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Taylor? Are you feeling ill? You look a little flushed."

At that statement, Justin's face flushed an even darker shade of red in embarrassment. _If you ONLY knew_, _Mr. Preston….If you ONLY knew._ "Uh…..yeah, I think I have a _fever_," Justin suddenly improvised. Yes, that was it…..a fever. After all, it wasn't really a _lie_ – he _WAS _burning up with a sickness – and his name was _Brian Kinney_.

The teacher cleared his throat. "Uh…..well then…you may be excused," he intoned, as Justin wasted no time in nodding gratefully and hastily scooping up his books and art portfolio, careful to hide his growing erection underneath his light jacket. As his face continued to burn from all the undivided attention, he practically ran toward the back of the room and threw open the door. Once outside in the hall, he quickly gulped in the relatively fresh air as he tried to calm his nerves and slow his breathing down. If he was _this_ worked up just THINKING about seeing Brian again, he could only _imagine_ what he would feel once he came face to face with him again at the diner. God, what feelings that man made him feel! Excited, overheated, exhilarated, scared to death but _happy_….profoundly _happy_. He smiled broadly to himself at the thought of spending time with Brian again. He had been so different last night after they had made love and this morning in bed when he had fed him chocolate-covered strawberries and playfully tickled him. He had let his guard down and was no longer the arrogant, self-assured, cocky man he always displayed for the rest of the world to see. Alone with him, he was gentle, relaxed, and tender. Yes, he was still insatiable when it came to fucking his brains out – not that he was complaining, mind you – but once they were alone he was more like when he had been with Gus – patient and dare he say it? _Loving_. Tender and loving. He couldn't wait to get to know Brian even better now, and he was hopeful that tonight would be the beginning of that. He noticed just before he rushed toward the exit door that thanks to his misguided instructor, he had just enough time now to run home and find something perfect to wear for his lover before their dinner; he wanted to look just right for the occasion. He almost skipped out the door in anxious anticipation at the thought of seeing him again, thanking Mr. Preston profusely inwardly for his chance to impress Brian properly. _One hour, one hour until I can see him again….I can't wait!_

_

* * *

_

One Hour Earlier – Kinnetik

As he sat in front of his laptop at his desk, Brian tried with difficulty to concentrate on the presentation the art department had created for the Bennington Ski Wear Line; he knew they needed a green light from him today in order to start producing the mockups for the advertising campaign being pitched to Bennington's president on Thursday, but try as he might, he just couldn't concentrate on anything but the deliciously sated feeling he still had from his and the Doughboy's several rounds of fucking last night and this morning. His anticipation of what the highly-awaited moment would finally be like with Justin hadn't managed to come anywhere close to the mind blowing events of last night and this morning; it was as if he could still feel his cock held in delicious hostage by Justin's almost painfully-tight hole; God, it had been SO fucking _incredible! _He smiled to himself - their bodies had fitted together so perfectly as if the blond had been (pardon the pun) _tailored_ for him; and Justin had somehow known just what to do and how to move to ignite his entire body on _fire_. The little sizzling dynamo had been just as passionate in bed as he was sparring verbally with him after his son's great dinosaur caper. He had known fairly quickly from their meeting at Babylon that the man was a superb kisser; but _holy shit_! He had had _no idea_ how this man could turn him into putty with just his skillful hands, just like the dough he was always kneading to create his incredible cakes of art. All those times Justin had had to use his long artist's fingers to grasp and manipulate mounds of dough must have paid off, because under his expert hands, Brian was just as helpless to resist. And those _lips_ – a plump, lush mouth that could lick and suck on every inch of his body and take him to heights he had never, ever experienced before. He had _never_ felt the way he did about this man; and he knew deep inside, it just wasn't about mind blowing sex. That part was definitely great; but there was something else about Justin Taylor – the way that he could stand up to him and not back down, and the way that he was so passionate about his work and his beliefs. This man was such an equal to him, and Brian was finding it extremely refreshing, as well as attractive as hell. Again, though, along with this previously-unknown feeling, there also crept a certain amount of fear – fear of the unknown. Brian had never found himself in this position of vulnerability before, and it scared him tremendously. Before now, the only other person he had really let his guard down in front of was his son; he knew that Gus was too young to truly understand the nuances of human behavior so he had felt comfortable revealing some of his true self to the boy. With Justin, however, it was _different_. He knew the man was on to him, but somehow it didn't matter. He grudgingly had to admit to himself; Lindsey had been _right_ – he DID feel something special toward this man. Would he be brave enough now to _admit_ that to HIM, also? The thought of doing that scared him but also _excited _him. He DID know one thing, though – he couldn't wait to see this man again.

His mind made up, he suddenly barked out, "Cynthia!"; several seconds later she popped her head somewhat hesitantly in the doorway. "You bellowed?" she muttered, her brows raised in expectation.

He smirked; he knew his assistant had heard it all by now and wasn't the least intimated by his gruffness. "Yes, I DID _bellow_," he confirmed, scowling. He quickly scribbled his initials and a few short editing comments on the foam board displays in front of him and held them out to her. "Here….take this to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over in the art department and tell them I want these changes made by _tomorrow morning!_" As she took the boards from his proffered hand, he stood up and closed his laptop decisively. "I have a meeting off site," he informed her vaguely as he walked out from behind his desk. "You can reach me on my cell phone if you need me…..but only in case of an _emergency_, got it?" he demanded.

She met his challenging expression with a curious one of her own; Brian seldom demanded such strict guidelines on business calls when he was away – this must be one very special "meeting." "Yeah…..I got it, Your Highness," she responded, performing a mocking bow as Brian smirked. He gave a fake royal wave in return as he rushed by her. "Later," he called after her as he rushed out the door, leaving an extremely curious Cynthia in his wake.

_

* * *

_

Liberty Diner – 5:10 p.m.

Brian slid into a nearby booth after spending a few minutes in the bathroom freshening up and straightening out his hair, which has become somewhat tousled from all the nervous hair-ruffling he had done at Kinnetik; he was surprised to notice how tense but excited he had been at the thought of seeing Justin again. He _never_ had spent so much time and effort on making himself look just right; but for some reason, when it came to Justin, he found it extremely important. He wanted to look his best for this man who had made such a profound impression on him.

"Well, to what do we owe the honor?" he heard a familiar voice croak beside him.

He cringed; he had hoped to avoid this person tonight when he met Justin; the last thing he needed was this woman providing a full report to all his friends later. "Hello to you, too, Deb," he answered somewhat sourly.

"Now, now, no need to be so _sweet_ to me, honey," she cracked as he stood there, hands on her hips and a pencil tucked behind her ear. "What – Woody's closed for renovation or something?" she asked. Brian normally only came in for breakfast or maybe lunch occasionally; it was rare for him to grace everyone with his _glorious_ presence at dinner.

He scowled at her; he knew she would report every fucking detail of his and Justin's dinner later to his consternation. But he had already agreed to meet Justin here; he couldn't very well change the place now – it was too close to the time they had agreed to meet. He would just have to put up with Debbie's nonstop chatter and insatiable curiosity for the time being and hope both he and Justin could be left somewhat in peace during the relatively short time he would have to spend with him tonight.

"Just bring me some ice water for now, Deb, okay?" he asked her, not willing to elaborate any further on why he was there.

"Wow – you sure you can _afford_ that?" she asked sarcastically as Brian glared back at her; he was already nervous enough without having to trade jabs back and forth with her. She finally just shook her head, perplexed, before she thankfully turned to leave and head back behind the counter to retrieve his water and a menu.

As she scooped some ice into Brian's glass, she looked up at the sound of the entrance bell and immediately was able to answer her previous question – the reason for Brian's surprising evening appearance at the diner was walking through the door. She recognized the adorable blond coming in as the wonderfully creative artist who had designed Michael's superhero cake. She had been stunned by the way Justin had been able to transform the Pittsburgh skyline she knew so well and even Michael's comic shop into a work of art and an _edible _one to boot. She had _never_ seen cakes like the one he had made and had been extremely impressed both with the cake AND with the beautiful artist that had created it. Apparently, she wasn't the _only _one who had felt that way as she noticed the instant smile that entirely lit up Brian's face as Justin somewhat eagerly but shyly approached his booth. _Well, well, well….that's a look I've NEVER seen before_, she noticed to her astonishment. She never thought she would see the day that Brian had met his match, but apparently from the look on his face, he HAD. She watched as he actually STOOD UP at Justin's approach; as Justin came within a few feet of him, her mouth gaped open as she saw the brunet reach over and tenderly grasp Justin by the upper arms and pull him into his embrace for a passionate kiss. Several seconds later as the _rest_ of the diner looked on in surprise, Brian must have finally realized everyone was watching, because he somewhat sheepishly released the blond and, taking his hand, pulled him to sit beside him on the same side of the booth, just like two teenagers on their first date. She couldn't fucking _believe _it, but there was the proof – sitting side by side not more than 10 feet away from her. Now she was incredibly curious to learn more about this man who had apparently accomplished what no other man had ever been able to do – firmly steal the great Brian Kinney's _heart_ away.

She hurriedly scooped some ice into a second glass and rushed over to Brian and Justin's table with the two containers. "I _know_ you!" she cried with a smile of delight as she approached their booth, acting surprised to see him there. "You're the artist that made that incredible cake for _Michael_!" she practically squealed, as Justin blushed but smiled at the compliment. "You're _Justin_, right?" she asked; she noticed with some sense of satisfaction that Brian tried to hide his eyes with his hands as if he had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

Justin nodded at her as he said politely, "Yes, that's me. I remember you at Babylon – you're Debbie, Michaels' mother, right?" he asked, even though he could already tell what her name was by the ID badge prominently displayed on her yellow, button-festooned vest. After that discovery, it had been easy to jog his memory and put two and two together to recall where he had seen her before. He hadn't realized she worked here at the Diner, though.

"_That's_ right, honey," she told him. "When Brian showed up here unexpectedly, I couldn't figure out why; now I _know," _she crowed as she gave Justin a sly wink. She laughed softly as she noticed Justin blushing – he was such a cutie – how in the world he ever wound up with Brian was hard to figure out. But by the look on both of their faces when they had first spied each other, apparently their affection for each other was mutual. "What can I get for you two – that's on the menu, anyway?" she cracked. She had no doubt what both of them would be _feasting _on later tonight by the hungry looks they were giving each other.

Brian groaned inwardly; he should have realized this would be a mistake – he should have picked somewhere _else_ to go, ANY where but here. But he knew Justin was pressed for time and this had seemed like a convenient spot to catch something quick to eat before he had to go to work at the deli. He could see now that his idea had been a mistake; it wouldn't be two minutes after they had both left before Debbie would be reporting every detail to Mikey and the rest of the gossipy band. He could just hear all the comments later: _Did you have fun on your DATE? Does he like roses or carnations? Did he let you kiss him when you took him HOME? Did you have to get him back to his apartment before his CURFEW? _He cringed at the thought but tried his best to keep his face neutral so Debbie didn't know how much he would fear the interrogation that was sure to come later.

"Uh…." Justin stammered; not only did he not have a clue what was on the menu here, but he was also having a hard time concentrating with Brian slowly rubbing tantalizingly light circles on top of his thigh with his hand under the table, _uncomfortably_ close to _another _part of his anatomy.

"He'll have a cheeseburger, onion rings, and a _strawberry_ shake," Brian drawled out, emphasizing the word _strawberry_ as it evoked memories of another encounter with strawberries that morning. Brian chuckled knowingly at him when he noticed Justin's face turning red as he read the blond's mind. "I'll have the grilled chicken with honey mustard and whole wheat bread," Brian told her as Debbie simply continued to stand there, enthralled by the interesting play taking place in front of her. "Uh….Debbie? Justin only has an hour or so…..chop, chop," Brian intoned in dismissal. He didn't want to spend the next hour talking to her about totally inane subjects; right now he had much more _exciting_ company to entertain.

"Oh…..right," Debbie said with a start. "I'll be right back with your shake, Sweetie," she told Justin as she finally rushed off to Brian's great relief. He briefly cursed himself for ordering the shake – if he had been thinking more clearly, he should have just let Justin drink his water – at least that would have given them more time alone without Debbie interrupting them again. He found, though, that when Justin was around, all his common sense flew out the window. He pushed irritated thoughts of a well-meaning Debbie aside and decided to devote his energy instead on the warm, soft, and so delicious-smelling body currently pressed up thigh-to-thigh with him. His hand began to trail closer and closer to his target under the table. _Just one little bite, Doughboy_, he thought to himself; his pulse quickened the closer he crept nearer and nearer to his goal…..

"Brian," Justin whispered urgently, his face reddening even more as he reached down to grab the roaming hand. "What are you _doing?" _He hissed. "We're in a public restaurant," he reminded him breathlessly.

Brian smirked as he leaned over to whisper in Justin's ear, "So let them get their _own_ appetizers," he answered huskily as he finally succeeded in getting a little _nibble_ on a slender lobe, NOT in the spot he was hoping to. He sighed in disappointment; for now, apparently that little taste would have to suffice until they were somewhere more _private_.

Justin shivered in pleasurable torment as Brian's hot voice wafted over his cheek and the brunet's teeth grazed his earlobe. This man made his body go into instant overdrive just by the sexy, suggestive tone of his voice and his oh-so-skillful hands. He had _never, ever _given his heart as well as his body so completely; the emotions and physical responses this man engendered in him shook him to his very foundation and made him feel like a skydiver quickly plummeting to the ground without a safety net. It was SO fucking terrifying but also so, so _exciting_! How in the hell he would ever be able to concentrate at the deli tonight or at school and the cake shop tomorrow was hard to fathom right now as Brian now took his free hand and began to slowly rub the outside part of it up and down his bare shoulder. Justin applauded his foresight for choosing to wear a sleeveless, cherry red wifebeater tonight with his black jeans. The shirt not only made his skin practically glow and his eyes sparkle even more, but it also provided for an extremely sensual, tactile experience as he felt every stroke of Brian's lean hand as it rubbed lightly up and down, up and down his upper arm. He had never known something so relatively simple could be so fucking _erotic_. Hell, with this man ANY touch from him was erotic – the man practically oozed sex with every move of his body. But strangely enough, what Justin found MOST erotic was the gentle, caring nature he exhibited when he let his guard down – that was the sexiest, most alluring part of it _all_.

Justin had closed his eyes to enhance the sensual experience and didn't notice Debbie returning to their table with his shake until he heard her voice and opened his eyes, startled. "There you are, Sweetie!" she cried, as he plopped the cherry-topped strawberry shake down in front of him. She noticed to her amusement that Brian seemed aggravated by the intrusion; no doubt he had been enjoying a little _treat_ of his own if Justin's look of embarrassment was any indication. She couldn't really blame Brian for being so infatuated, however; the blond was simply striking with his golden, shiny hair, long eyelashes, sky blue eyes and full lips. Brian must have thought he had hit the mother lode with _this_ one, she thought – he was simply mesmerizing, at least to a gay man. She thought to herself – _to a straight WOMAN, too…..Sorry, Ladies._ "Can I get you lovebirds anything else?" she asked brightly, earning another glare from Brian.

Justin, though, had better manners, she discovered. "No, thanks, Deb," he politely responded, smiling, although her name sort of came out as more of a choke as she noticed Justin fidgeting in his seat. She smirked knowingly at Brian, who simply smiled innocently before she huffed out something that sounded like "Huh!" and strode purposefully back toward the chef's window to check on her orders due to be up.

"Bri-an," Justin scolded the other man as soon as Debbie had left, smacking his hand which had somehow managed to find its way persistently back under the table and once again was dangerously close to his initial, intended target. "Behave!" he chided him sternly, although Brian could detect a distinctive note of naughty excitement in his voice.

He leaned over again to whisper in Justin's ear. "Admit it, _Doughboy_," using that raspy, gravely growl that always turned Justin on, "You _enjoy_ the risk of getting caught. It makes you _horny_," he purred as he delighted in receiving another shiver of desire from the other man as he licked the outer, fleshy part of the blond's earlobe. "I know it makes ME horny. It's a shame they don't have _crème horns_ on the menu, isn't it?" he sexily murmured, as Justin began to squirm anew under the pleasurable torment. "No matter, though," Brian added softly as an afterthought; his voice taking on even more of a sexy drawl as he added, "I'll just get mine _later_…in _bed_…with YOU." He snaked out his tongue now and began to lick a wet path of saliva from behind Justin's earlobe down the pale, slender neck.

Debbie watched the demonstrative show of affection being played out in front of her and the rest of the curious diners; she couldn't _believe it_, even though it was taking place right in front of her eyes. Brian had _never_ acted this way with another man, with a _trick_. First of all, he NEVER brought tricks into the diner with him, and second of all, even if he DID, he would never fall all over them like he was with _this_ man. He wasn't just seducing him in the booth; he was – dare she think it? S_nuggling _with him, being _playful_ with him, nuzzling his neck. And his bright, mischievous eyes were a dead giveaway – he was _smitten_ with this man. Fucking _unbelievable_. Obviously, this young, talented man was NO trick to Brian. But just what WAS he to the other man? Was it just possible that Brian actually DID do boyfriends? Maybe he never _had_ before, but apparently he DID now. As she continued to watch, stunned, she observed Brian smiling tenderly at the other man as her estimation of Justin's abilities and her impression of him rose even more. This adorable, tremendously creative blond artist had apparently done something no other man had ever done before – he had managed somehow to lasso the great, unattainable beast – Brian Kinney. Will wonders never cease…..

* * *

Several minutes later, Brian sat almost in Justin's lap as the blond enthusiastically polished off the last of his onion rings and licked his fingers; he grinned over at Brian who rolled his eyes at the somewhat uncouth method he had of cleaning the grease from his hands.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you _proper manners?_" he teased Justin, who maturely stuck his tongue out at him. "Here….let me _show _you, Doughboy," he scolded him. Justin expected the man to pick up his nearby cloth napkin and wipe his fingers off with it; but he was surprised when Brian took his hand and raised it slowly to his mouth as his hazel eyes bored into his. Justin's breath hitched in his throat as Brian opened his mouth and begin to suck languidly on each finger ever so slowly. _Oh, my God_, Justin thought, as the feeling of Brian's lips tightly sucking on each finger evoked a much more intimate act they had performed several times last night and this morning. Justin barely was able to breathe as he watched, hypnotized, as Brian took his time _cleaning_ each of his greasy fingers thoroughly before he finally finished several minutes later. "There," he drawled sexily, continuing to stare deeply into his wide, blue eyes. "All done," he intoned, just before he smiled slightly. "I expect you'll get even _dirtier_ later, though," he whispered, his voice just loud enough for only Justin to hear. "You'd better come by the loft after work so I can _clean you up THOROUGHLY."_

_Gotcha, _Brian thought smugly, as he heard Justin utter a groan of unfulfilled lust. He had no doubt that if Justin would let him reach his intended _target_ under the table right now, he would find it hard as steel, just like his own was at the moment. Just the thought of what he wanted to do to this delicious Doughboy later made his hard as a rock and horny as hell. If only they had even a few minutes for the _first course_, he thought, noting regretfully that it was close to 6:40 now. As much as he hated to mention it, he knew he had been the cause of Justin being late for school this morning and he knew Justin would be upset if he was late for the deli, too. "As much as I hate to mention this, _Doughboy_, but don't you have to be at the deli by 7:00?"

He knew he was right as Justin almost shot up from the booth as if he had been hit by a bullet. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "I have to GO or I'm going to be LATE!" He hurried to scoot his body out from under the booth's table, repeating his curse again. "Damn it! If I'm late again, Harry threatened to fire my ASS!" he told Brian in partial explanation. "I gotta go," he told the brunet regretfully, his painful hard-on momentarily forgotten as he rushed around to gather his things.

"Wait!" Brian yelled out as Justin began to rush off; he grabbed his forearm to prevent him from rushing off so quickly. "What about _later?" _he asked him, trying hard to keep the hopeful anxiousness out of his voice. God, he was beginning to sound like some needy, nerdy schoolboy with a crush; how did this man manage to DO this to _him?_ He didn't care, though – he HAD to see him again – _tonight_. So, sue him – he was in total surrender when it came to this wonderful man.

"Brian….." Justin began, torn between having to get to work and wanting to see this intriguing, _can-never-get-enough-of _man again.

"Just say _yes,_ Doughboy," he urged him. "Then you can leave." He curled his lips under in that adorable, playful, little-boy-look that always made Justin's heart melt.

He smiled – how could he _resist _that look? "Okay, okay," he agreed, smiling. "Now let me go so I can get some _work_ done. I don't get paid for my adorable good looks, you know," he kidded him.

Just before Brian let him go finally, though, he took advantage of his grip on his arm to pull his slender body toward him. He gave the blond a thorough, passionate kiss for a few seconds while he whispered against his lips, "You _could_," before he reluctantly released a delighted Justin. "Later," he whispered softly to the artist, satisfied that he would at least see him again before the night was over.

"Later," Justin whispered back, a smile of promise on his face. He grabbed his jacket and headed hurriedly out the door.

* * *

Justin wasn't the only one delighted by this turn of events; he had been in such a hurry to leave the diner, he hadn't even noticed Lindsey, who had entered the establishment a few minutes earlier and had taken a seat at the counter to wait for Mel and Gus to meet her for dinner. After Debbie had greeted her warmly, she had asked her what was new just as a point of polite, friendly conversation. In response, Debbie had replied, "You'll never guess," before she nodded her head over to a booth toward the back of the room. Lindsey's frown of confusion over Debbie's mysterious answer gave way to a smile of profound happiness as she observed the playful interaction going on between her old and dearest friend, Brian, and the blond artist she had decided from the start would be a perfect match for the larger-than-life ad executive. From her vantage point, she could see the two of them clearly. If they hadn't been so absorbed in only staring at each other, too, they would have noticed _she_ was there as well. At the moment, though, they only had eyes for each other, and hands, and lips….for Brian was practically sitting in Justin's lap as he slowly took the pale artist's hand gently and begin to suckle each finger separately in his mouth almost reverently. She was stunned by the look of utter adoration in not only Justin's eyes but more amazingly in _Brian's_ as well.

"It's enough for ME to need some ice water," Debbie cracked as she smiled and winked at Lindsey. "You _told_ me there was something special about that young man, but I never thought I would live to see the day," Debbie declared in disbelief. "The great, unbeatable Brian Kinney thoroughly brought down by a little, blond, thoroughly _adorable _Cake Picasso."

Lindsey nodded as she continued to watch the open display of affection between Brian and Justin. "I think it's great," she declared, smiling proudly as if she had just given birth to a newborn baby. "I just _knew _it," she told Debbie, feeling a sense of vindication as her prophetic words were coming true. "I watched them together from the start, and just had a feeling about them. I think they're more alike than anyone really knew. Justin's not a pushover – he can play with the big boys – _even _Brian," she said, chuckling.

The two women continued to stare, amazed, at the affectionate display being performed for everyone to see. Brian was so captivated by Justin that he simply had apparently zoned everyone else out – no one else even existed at the moment. It was times like these that were extremely rare for the rest of the world to be privy to – Lindsey herself was normally only a witness to them when Brian was around Gus. Apparently he had finally found one other person who had successfully managed to bring the same tender feelings out in him.

She noticed Justin abruptly scoot over in the booth now and stand up, as he apparently became aware of something urgent. She watched, amused now, as Brian attempted to prevent Justin from leaving as he pulled the blond back to him and bestowed a passionate kiss on him. Justin blushed, then smiled and whispered something to him just before he rushed out of the diner, oblivious to another friend of his sitting nearby on one of the counter stools watching the sexy scene coming to an end as Brian sat back down almost dreamy eyed and began to play absentmindedly with his straw and ice water.

"Well, I never thought I would live to see this," Debbie declared to her, shaking her head in disbelief. She would have never believed it if she had not seen it with her own eyes – Brian Kinney in love. "I just can't believe it," she said to Lindsey, shaking her head.

Lindsey beamed. "_Believe it_," she confirmed. "He's got it BAD for this one – and I just don't mean for one night," she clarified. "I do believe the great Brian Kinney is head over heels in _L-O-V-E_," she said almost in sing-song.

"Better not let HIM hear you say that," Debbie warned her. Brian may not have realized how demonstrative he was being with Justin just now, but if you called him on it, he would deny it to kingdom come. After all, the man had a reputation to uphold, as he so frequently had to point out. "He would never admit it," she declared. "Never in a million fucking years." She had known Brian for far too long to think otherwise. He may truly love this young man, but would he ever utter those words from his lips? No fucking way.

"But, Deb, where's the fun in keeping it a _secret?_ I think it's great," she said teasingly. "And I can't wait to let Brian know that _I _know." She slid off the counter stool and picked up her two lemon bars and her cup of coffee. "In fact, I think I'll go have a little chat with _lover boy_ right now while I wait for Mel and Gus." She gave Debbie a little wave and a smile as she headed over to her unsuspecting prey.

Debbie shook her head warily. She had a bad feeling about this for some reason. She just prayed she was wrong as she continued to stare at Lindsey's retreating form.

* * *

"Why, look who's gracing us with his towering presence?" Lindsey cried in mock excitement. "Mind if I join you?" She didn't actually wait for Brian to answer; she just promptly plopped down on the opposite side of the booth and stared at him with a coy smile on her lips.

"No…..not at all," Brian answered sarcastically as he watched Lindsey help herself to the opposite seat. "Go right ahead. And to answer your question, I DO have to eat from time to time," he retorted. "Where's your pit bull partner and Gus?" he asked her, looking around the diner but not seeing them.

She grimaced at the derogatory name for her partner. _"MEL _and Gus are meeting me here for dinner in about 15 minutes," she told him. "Mel had to go pick him up from pre-school," she explained. "But enough of that….I want to know all about your _date_."

Brian winced. "My _date?"_ he answered in mock confusion. Internally, though, he knew that Lindsey must have been witness to at least part of his dinner with Justin; yes, they had met here to eat dinner. But he steadfastly refused to call their meeting a DATE. It was DINNER, that's all. At least he kept telling himself that.

"Yes, Brian…_YOUR DATE. With Justin._ The blond you just said goodbye to a few minutes ago? Remember? Or are your brain cells finally beginning to wither away due to _old age_?"

"Fuck you, Wendy," Brian told her testily. "It wasn't some fucking _date_. We merely met here for _dinner_, that's all."

"What's going on?"

_Oh, No,_ Brian thought. He figured his vehement protests about not being with Justin on a date hadn't been bad enough with Lindsey; NOW he was going to have to deny the same thing to _Michael_. Just great.

Michael eagerly sat down next to Brian, who looked down at his lap in embarrassment. He didn't quite know why he was so reluctant to talk honestly about Justin in front of his friends; perhaps he wanted to keep it private, just between the two of them, or maybe he had never quite felt about anyone like this before and it scared the shit out of him. In either case, he wasn't about to eat crow in front of his _I-TOLD-you-so_ friend and his lap dog best friend, Michael. It was none of their damned business, anyway.

* * *

Justin ran furiously toward the bus stop down the street, anxious to catch the 6:45 p.m. stop to Belmont, where the deli was located. If he timed it just right and the bus was on time, he could make it to the deli with about two minutes to spare. It would be cutting it close, but it would be close enough NOT to be late.

He had decided that even if HE was a little late, and even if he risked being fired as a result, it would have been _worth it_. Because he had never been as happy as he was right now. These past 24 hours with Brian had been the best of his entire life, and the most exhilarating. It was like the 4th of July, Coney Island, and bungee jumping all rolled up into one. His whole body was alive with the possibilities the future might hold for them. He knew they had only been acquainted for a short time, but he felt some sort of connection with him from the beginning; it was almost like some invisible bond between them, some indelible string stretched between them. And Brian had finally admitted how he felt, and even more, he had _shown him_. Last night and tonight – in front of _everyone_. He was so eager to see him after work – he had thought about playing a little hard to get and not being quite so quick to accept every invitation from him to be together. But who was he _kidding?_ He couldn't WAIT to see this man again – he did things to him and made him feel things he never even knew he was capable of. Until now, Justin had never really known what it had meant to be truly in love, but now he DID. He decided it was at once the scariest but most exciting feeling in the world. Yes, Justin Taylor was in love – deeply and passionately. He was in love with Brian Kinney, the sexiest, most passionate, most exciting man in the whole world.

As the assigned bus approached the stop, he smiled broadly to himself as he anticipated their reunion later tonight while he dug in his pocket for his wallet to retrieve the bus fare. His look of eagerness, however, was replaced by confusion as he came up with only air. Then it hit him – he had taken his wallet and laid it on the booth's table when he had searched in his pocket for a pen to write down Brian's cell # he had given him. Until tonight, it hadn't occurred to him that he didn't have his personal cell number and Brian had wanted him to have it in case he needed to call him. At the time, the brunet had kidded him huskily that he only wanted the number so he could call him in the middle of the night for a little phone sex; but he had still good-naturedly chuckled and written the number down on a napkin, which Justin had possessively stuffed inside his other jacket pocket. He still had Brian's number there as evidenced by his searching fingers; however, unfortunately that was ALL he had. Sighing in frustration as well as resignation – his job was apparently as good as gone now – he turned and headed a little more slowly this time back to the diner. The only consolation was, if Brian was somehow still there, at least the two of them could continue where they had left off. Perhaps, they could even continue their "dessert" back at Brian's loft. Thoughts of that delicious possibility quickly lightened his mood and he began to hum a little to himself as he began to approach the Liberty Diner. Just before he opened the door, he smiled – Brian's 'Vette was still parked on the other side of the street. _Maybe this will turn out to be a good night after all_.

* * *

"Well?" Michael pressed Brian, as he looked over to Lindsey as Brian sat stonily silent. "What's going _on_?" he asked, noticing the rather tense silence that had overtaken the booth's occupants.

Lindsey finally replied, "I was asking Brian about his _date_ with Justin," she teased her friend.

"How many fucking times do I HAVE to tell you, Lindsey?" Brian snarled. "It was NOT a fucking date."

"Are we talking about Justin _Taylor_?" Michael asked, stunned. "You mean that blond little _cake designer? _Is he even OUT of school yet?" he joked.

"I'll have you know that Justin is a very accomplished college art student," Lindsey verified for him. "He goes to PIFA – that's a very hard school to be accepted at," she informed him. "Plus he works at a deli AND at the cake shop to boot. He's not a lightweight by anyone's standards," she told him firmly. She was convinced this man was more than capable of standing up to Brian or _anyone_ else. What she had seen tonight, too, had simply cemented her impression of him. That passionate, yet tender scene she had witnessed earlier was definitely NOT one-sided and it was most definitely by _anyone's _standards at DATE.

"Okay, okay, so he's talented with art. But what are _talking about?_ A DATE? Brian doesn't DO dates."

"Au contraire, Michael," Brian corrected him. I DO _DO_ dates – I ALSO do hairdressers, waiters, busboys, cab drivers, massage therapists…."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Michael muttered, as Lindsey tried to open her mouth to speak but was unsuccessful. "That's just the point. Brian might have find this little blond twink fascinating and even good looking in a cute-little-boy way, but once he's had him, he's done…right?" Michael looked over at his friend for confirmation. That was ALWAYS the Brian Kinney approach to sex – fuck him senseless one night, _maybe, just maybe_ fuck them MORE than once (if you count the next morning), but after that it was simply _hasta luego__, _baby.

Brian looked from Lindsey to Mikey; he was NOT going to admit that he had, indeed, fallen head over heels in love with Justin; it was none of their business and he just couldn't deal with Lindsey's smug look of "I TOLD you so," or Michael's look of astonishment when he admitted that no, Justin was so much more than just "another trick." Justin was never, and never would be, a _trick_. He was too special, and try as he might, God help him, Brian was falling in LOVE with the little blond hellcat.

Brian looked over at Lindsey, who was waiting to hear triumphantly for verification of her theory from the start – that Brian would fell hard for Justin. And Michael, meanwhile, was waiting to hear yet again that Justin had been simply what all other men had ever been to him – just another luscious trick to capture and then discard like yesterday's old newspaper for more exciting prey.

"Yeah, sure…." He found himself confirming, as Lindsey opened her mouth in shock. She knew that was SO not true – she had seen the proof with her own eyes a short while ago – and she couldn't understand why in the world he was _denying _it. Was her friend THAT afraid to admit his true feelings about someone? Did he somehow think he didn't _deserve _to be loved?

For whatever reason, her friend happened to choose the worst possible moment to boast smugly about his latest conquest as he told Michael calmly, "Of course it was, Mikey. What _else _would it be? Although," he said, his voice lowering conspiratorially, "I have to admit – he was the _best damn lay _I think I've EVER had." He winked and smiled at his friend, who nodded knowingly. Now _that_ was the Brian Kinney he knew so well.

Brian's boastful smile faded somewhat, however, as he looked over at Lindsey, whose face was contorted in pain and eyes were rapidly filling with tears. He noticed strangely, though, that she wasn't looking at him, but over his shoulder.

His heart dropped in his chest as he slowly turned around to observe a pair of wide, blue eyes staring back at him in anger, shock and stunned disbelief before Justin quickly turned on his heels and ran out of the diner.


	17. Chapter 17: How to Make Amends?

As Michael noticed Brian's look of dread, he, too, turned around to see what had gotten his friend's attention. He was surprised to see that it was the object of their discussion; was the cake artist hoping to return for an _encore?_ Brian was truly worthy of one, but if he was _hoping _for one, the guy was out of luck. Brian never did a trick more than once, no matter _how_ good they were. To Michael, Justin Taylor was just one more conquest of Brian's to be had and thrown away just like all the others. He snorted at Justin as if to tell him he was wasting his time if he thought he could get be the exception to that rule.

Imagine his shock, however, as Brian roughly began to push him to try and remove him from his side so he could get out of the booth's seat. "Brian….._What are you doing?_" he muttered, as he found himself abruptly on his ass on the cold, hard vinyl floor.

"Get out of my _way_, Michael!" he snapped as he quickly stepped over him and ran out of the diner at breakneck speed.

As Michael painfully stood up and rubbed his sore ass, he stared after the quickly-retreating form of his friend. Turning to Lindsey, who had remained seated during the hasty departure of her friend, he snapped, "Jeez! What's with _him_?"

Lindsey retorted, her eyes blazing, "_I'LL _tell you what's WRONG with him – he just made a complete ass of himself and hurt someone very badly." She shook her head in disappointment and disgust; she knew in her heart of hearts that Brian really did _care_ for Justin. Why had it been so important that he felt he had to maintain his _studly_ image at the risk of hurting someone he cared about as well as _himself_?

Michael huffed, "You mean that blond twink artist _stalker_? Come on, Lindsey! He's a pretty decent cake designer, but to Brian he's just another trick! Fuck 'em one night and then move on to the _next one_!"

"Shut up, Michael!" she growled. "You don't know what you're _talking_ about! He really _cares_ about Justin, and Justin cares about him. At least, he _did_ – until Brian had to fuck it up because he was scared to death."

"What are you _talking _about, Lindsey? Brian isn't afraid of _anything_," he boasted smugly. Brian was the strongest, most capable person he had ever known. He thought Lindsey knew Brian just as well; apparently, however, she did not.

"That's where you're_ wrong_," she insisted. "He IS afraid – to _love_ and to BE _loved_. And it looks like he's going to pay a big price for that." _As well as Justin_, she feared. She felt guilty now that she had ever encouraged Justin to risk his heart for Brian; she felt disappointed and ashamed on behalf of her friend. _I thought I knew you BETTER than that, Brian._ She shook her head sadly; Justin deserved better than to be used and then simply thrown away like some broken toy.

Michael simply shook his head uncomprehendingly. That was NOT the Brian he knew – he found that notion utterly preposterous. "That's _ridiculous_, Lindsey," he maintained fiercely. "Brian doesn't DO love. He doesn't believe in it."

Lindsey sighed in disappointment. She looked down at the table and noticed an object lying there. Picking it up, she opened it to discover the reason for Justin's return to the diner – his wallet. Holding it lightly in her hand as she stroked the soft leather, she replied, "Maybe you're right, Michael. But not because he doesn't _believe _it in it; it's because I don't think he knows _how_."

* * *

Justin rushed down the street, his mission to retrieve his wallet in the diner totally forgotten now. He was finding it difficult to see because his eyes were filled with tears; tears for his naivety, his lost hopes, and his gullibility for believing that Brian might have actually cared for him. _How could he have been so STUPID? _

"Justin!" His heart began to pound as he recognized the voice calling him from behind; he turned to verify he was correct and observed Brian racing at the top of his lungs toward him on the sidewalk as he tried to evade the crowd passing by. He quickened his pace to place as much space between him and the older man as he hurried to evade him; the _last_ thing he wanted right now was to talk to this man.

Brian's long legs, however, gave him a distinct advantage as he quickly gained on his quarry. "Justin, _wait_!" he demanded loudly, but Justin merely began to jog even faster. Justin's adrenaline began to make his pulse beat furiously as he realized by the sound of Brian's voice that he was getting closer. If he could just make it to the bus about to pull out right down the street, he would be thankfully away from the man that had just completely broken his heart.

Brian was determined, though, not to let him escape. He _finally_ caught up with the blond and reached out to grab his upper arm firmly. "Damn it, Justin, _WAIT_!" he cried, as he turned the blond around to face him. "I need to _talk to you!_"

Justin snorted. "That's a _laugh!_ What – you didn't get enough kicks back at the diner boasting to your friends about what a good _fuck_ I was? I least it sounded like I was in your _TOP TEN_! I should be fucking _honored!_"

Brian rubbed his hand awkwardly across his face. What a mess he had created! "Justin…..." he tried to explain. Somehow he had to make this man understand. "About what I said back there…..." he began.

"I _don't_ want to HEAR it, Brian!" Justin snarled, his eyes filling with tears again. "I heard _enough!_" he spat out. "You got what you wanted – a good lay and a good laugh. Now leave me the FUCK ALONE!" He roughly snatched his arm away from Brian's grasp so violently that it temporarily caused Brian to lose his balance. Justin took the other man's momentary distraction to spin on his heels and rush toward the bus that was about to pull out from the corner stop, grateful at least that he had change for the bus in his pockets. Running toward the departing vehicle, he angrily pounded on the door before the driver rather reluctantly slid the two louvers open and Justin rushed on board, plucking the fare out of his pocket and pushing them into the coin box. As he finally plopped down in the first available seat, he caught a fleeting glimpse of Brian's inscrutable face as the bus pulled away before he closed his eyes in relief and leaned back in the seat.

Brian stood there in shock and disbelief, silently cursing himself for the pain he had caused the man that he had grown to care for and even _love_. How could he have _done_ this to Justin? What the hell was _wrong_ with him? Why didn't he just tell Michael the truth? Would it have been so terrible to admit to his best friend and to Lindsey that he actually _cared_ about this man? And more importantly, how in the fuck was he going to get Justin to forgive him? Would he EVER forgive him?

He licked his lips nervously; Justin was a very passionate person – about his work, about his art, and about life in general. But he had NEVER seen him this upset before. Could he really _blame_ him, though? He had hurt him – badly. _So, Brian Kinney…..what are you going to DO about it_? He shook his head, still stunned by the events of the past hour. Well, he DID know one thing: this man was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he was NOT going to let him go. The question was – how was he going to repair the damage he had just caused? And how would he get Justin to trust him again? His mind whirling with his thoughts, he slowly turned around and headed back toward the diner to retrieve his car and begin to formulate his plan to win Justin back, because to him there was no other alternative.

Fifteen minutes later, he re-entered the diner to discover Lindsey now sitting with Mel and Gus. Michael, thankfully, had left; he did not feel like rehashing his conversation with his best friend again at the moment; he had a suspicion it was going to be hard enough dealing with Lindsey.

By the hateful looks evident on both her and Mel's faces, he knew Lindsey had filled Mel in on all the sordid details. His suspicion was confirmed as Mel growled at him, "How could you DO this to _him?_"

He sighed a deep breath. "I'm NOT going to get into this with you…..especially with Gus here," he quietly informed her, attempting to keep his voice calm so as not to upset his son. He noticed with a degree of concern that his son turned to look at him, a little confused, at the odd tone of his voice. "Hi, Daddy," he hailed his father cheerfully. "Where's Jus'n?" he asked him; Brian's face filled with pain as he noticed his son clutching the notorious Dimetrodon in his left hand, the toy that merely served to remind him of a certain blond dynamo who was uppermost in his mind…..and his _heart_.

Brian winced at the mention of the other man. "He….was here earlier, but he had to go home, Sonny Boy," he told his son softly. Mel huffed and shook her head sadly in disdain as Brian glared at her in a silent challenge to keep quiet. He felt bad enough at the moment – he certainly didn't need to be reminded of what he had done.

He quietly slid into the seat beside his son, reaching over to affectionately ruffle his brown hair. Gus was gratefully oblivious to the thick tension permeating the booth's space as he held up a French fry for his father to nibble. Brian smiled sadly at his son. "No, thanks, Gus," he softly told him. "Daddy's full," he explained.

"Yeah, Daddy's full of _something_," Mel growled as she stared at him scornfully. She was royally pissed at this man for hurting such a sweet, kind soul as Justin Taylor.

"Mel…." Lindsey chided her, laying a hand on her forearm in warning. "Later….not in front of Gus," she whispered in her ear.

"I was just going anyway," Brian retorted a little harshly; he bit his lip to refrain from saying anything further as Gus peered over at him questioningly at the sharp, unexpected tone of his father's voice. Brian sighed; _could anything else go wrong tonight?_ He slid out from under the booth's table and stood up. "Daddy has to go, Sonny Boy," he told his son softly. "I'll see you soon," he promised him with a slight smile as he leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Staring somewhat uncomfortably at the two women, he nodded glumly before he turned to head out of the diner. Lindsey appeared about to say something, but closed her mouth as she thought better of getting into an argument with Brian in front of Gus; there would be time for _that_ later, and she would _definitely_ make time for that.

Brian's hopes of leaving unfettered, however, were dashed as he neared the exit door and ran directly into a red-haired volcano about to erupt. Stepping into his path, Debbie stood firmly in his way. "What the _FUCK_ were you thinking?" she snarled. "How could you DO that to him?"

Brian tried to gingerly but firmly push the woman out his way but Debbie surprisingly held steadfast as she grabbed his upper arms. "I asked you a _question, _ASSHOLE! What did you think you were _doing?"_

Brian hissed, "Debbie, just stay the fuck out of it, okay?" as he tried once again

"Like HELL I will," she growled. "You _hurt_ that KID! How could you DO THAT? He really _cared_ about you – I could tell by the way he _looked _at you. And you want to hear something even _more_ incredible? I thought you actually cared about HIM!" She shook her head in disappointment as she clucked at him. "I'm _disappointed_ in you, Brian Kinney. You had a chance for true happiness and you fucking _blew it!"_

Brian huffed out a breath of frustration. "Well, _thank you_ for that advice for the lovelorn, _Dear Abby_. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some errands to run." _And some major fences to mend_.

"Of course," Debbie retorted. "Don't let me keep you from your important _tasks_. I'm sure it's not easy finding your next greatest trick to fuck," she told him, her voice dripping with scorn. She then stepped out of his way, smirking at him as she swept her hands out as if she were a tour guide showing her guest how to exit the latest attraction.

Brian gave her a smirk and a fake smile before he swung the exit door open and finally departed the diner. Taking a deep sigh of relief now that he had managed to leave the court of popular reproach, he closed his eyes briefly and inhaled a shaky breath. He had no idea how he was going to make amends to Justin, but he knew he had to try. His mind churned with the somewhat formidable task before him as he thoughtfully strode toward his 'Vette. _Don't give up on me, Doughboy_, he implored the other man silently. _Don't give up on US_.

* * *

_Wednesday Morning – Cakes of Art Design Shop_

Emmett hummed a Barbara Streisand tune as he turned the key in the lock of his and Justin's shop and rushed in; he wanted to get an early start on planning the canapés for this weekend's wedding reception at the downtown Convention Center for the Wallace party. The couple was expecting a very large crowd – upwards of 300 people – at the reception, so it was important he be prepared to shop for the ingredients later this week. He had learned from past experience that it was crucial to have more than enough of the recipe's ingredients on hand in case a batch didn't come out as expected – one eccentric oven that cooked his food too quickly and he would be in trouble.

He placed the rather large stack of mail he had collected from their box outside on the counter as he hurried toward the backroom to find a legal pad to start jotting down the pantry items he would need at the organic grocery down the street; he skidded to a halt in surprise, however, as he observed his partner sitting at his planning desk, his head pillowed on his arms as he slept. Emmett furrowed his brow, trying to recall what Justin's schedule was on Tuesdays. He believed his friend didn't have a class until at least 10:00 on Tuesdays and it was barely 8:30 now. Should he wake him or let him sleep? He wondered curiously why his friend was here at the shop, sleeping, instead of at his apartment. Lately it seemed like Justin had developed a habit of falling asleep here at the shop; he worried that his friend was wearing himself out between his school, the shop, the deli, and _Brian_. Emmett figured his friend hadn't even gone home last night; the wrinkled clothing seemed to indicate that. Had Brian finally gotten what he wanted and kept Justin out all _night_? If he had, why was Justin here and not at the man's loft? Knowing how his friend felt about the brunet, he couldn't figure out what would have caused Justin to leave the sexy man's side. Well, there was only one way to find out.

"Justin?" Emmett called softly as he leaned over the slender body and gently nudged the blond's shoulder. "Wake up, Sweetie," he prodded him gingerly. He waited several seconds for Justin to respond before he finally noticed the blond's eyelids slowly fluttering open under the golden strands of errant hair hanging over his eyes.

"Em," Justin whispered as he slowly raised his hand and noticed sunlight wafting through the front showroom. He groaned a little as he felt the stiffness apparent in his shoulders and neck from his sleeping on the hard, wooden design table. "What time is it?" he asked his friend in a raspy voice.

"A little after 8:30. Have you been here all night, Sweetie?" he asked the blond curiously. He watched as a cloud inexplicably appeared over Justin's face briefly before he nodded. "Why, Baby? I thought you were meeting Brian for dinner last night before your work shift. What happened?"

Emmett watched with growing concern as he noticed his friend's eyes quickly filling with tears. "Justin?"

Justin cursed inwardly; he had told himself he was done feeling sorry for himself, but as soon as Emmett had mentioned Brian's name, the sad, bitter feelings had instantly resurfaced. "You were _right_, Em," Justin whispered painfully as he relived yesterday evening's disastrous events. "You were right." He looked away from his friend's caring glance, too ashamed that he had let his heart outweigh his common sense.

"Right about _what_, Justin?" Emmett had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer to that question, however, but he prayed he was wrong.

Justin inhaled a shaky breath and let it out before turning to look at his friend, his face flushed with embarrassment. "About _Brian_," he whispered as he bit his lip. "You were right, Em."

Emmett reached over and placed his arm around Justin's shoulders, providing him with just enough courage to continue. "He…he just chased me until I gave him. I was just….another fuck to him," he whispered bitterly as he continued to gnaw on his lower lip in embarrassed shame.

Emmett shook his head in disappointment; he had warned Justin about this man, but he had actually hoped that Brian might surprise him and turn out to genuinely care for his friend; the man had _seemed_ to have feelings for him. He had fervently hoped that Brian would wind up proving him wrong, because he knew Justin's heart was slowly being stolen away by this other man. Now it appears he had been right about his initial assessment of the man. "Oh, Sweetie, I'm so sorry," he murmured sympathetically as he patted his shoulder. "You deserve so much better than that."

Justin wiped a stray tear from his cheek with the inside of his hand. "I really thought he cared about me, Em" he whispered mournfully. "He was so gentle and caring with me at the loft yesterday morning. And then when he asked me to meet him for dinner before my shift last night…He, he was so…._loving_," he told his friend softly. "I – I don't understand." He sighed in melancholy. "I guess I was wrong somehow."

Emmett didn't understand, either – just what _had_ occurred for his friend to be so upset? "What _happened_, then, Baby?" he asked, peering down at his friend's look of confusion and quiet anguish as he wondered how the two of them had gone from a wonderful night together and dinner last night to _this_ fractured soul pouring his heart out to him.

Justin sighed plaintively, his shoulders drooping with the bad memory. "I…..said good night to him last night after dinner because I had to hurry to catch the bus to the deli. I had almost gotten to the stop when I realized I'd left my wallet at the diner, so I hurried back to get it, even though I knew it would make me late for work." Justin closed his eyes as the painful episode replayed in his mind again. Emmett noticed his hesitation and squeezed his friend's shoulder briefly in a show of support, providing just enough encouragement for the blond to continue with his story.

"When I got back to the diner, I noticed Brian's car outside, so I knew he was still there. I was happy about that," Justin admitted softly, as he thought back to the exhilarating feeling he had felt, "because I knew I would get to see Brian again. And when I rushed into the diner to get my wallet, Brian was still sitting in the same booth with his back to me. Lindsey and Michael were there with him, though, and he was talking about me." He closed his eyes again as he revisited that horrible moment. "He…..he was telling Michael that I was just another trick to fuck before he moved on to the next one….." He laughed ironically with derision. "Although he paid me a big compliment – he told Michael I was the _best lay_ he had ever had."

Emmett's blood boiled at the thought of how utterly callous this man had been with his friend's tender heart. He should have been upset at Justin for how gullible he had been and how lightly he had taken his words of caution; however, one look at his friend's devastated face and any irritation or thoughts of _I TOLD YOU SO_ promptly disappeared to be replaced with sadness for his friend's disappointment and sorrow. "Oh, Sweetie," he cooed sympathetically. "My poor Baby."

"It was _so _humiliating, Em," Justin whispered. "I really thought he cared about me. What a fucking _idiot_ I was. He must have had a good laugh about that."

"Well, you were _too good_ for him, anyway, Baby," Emmett declared firmly. "He didn't deserve someone like you."

"But, Em, I really thought I could change him...I really thought he was _different _with me," he said, berating himself internally for trying to defend the other man even now.

"Well, if anyone _could_ have changed the man, it would have been YOU," Emmett told him adamantly. It was too bad that Justin couldn't have succeeded, for BOTH he AND Kinney's sakes.

Justin smiled at his friend slightly. "You're…..a good friend, Em," he told the other man, grateful for how his business partner stood up for him. Emmett smiled back at him in support and reached down to give him a brief hug before releasing him. _It was so easy to care about someone like him - why couldn't Brian have realized that, too?_

Justin took a deep breath and released it as he slowly slid off the stool to stand up. He stretched his hands above his head in an attempt to work some of the kinks out of his stiff back and sighed in resignation as he glanced up at the clock. "I'd better run over to my apartment and grab a quick shower. I have class in about an hour," he explained as he reached over to grab his jacket lying over the back of a nearby chair. He abruptly uttered an anguished cry, however, as a sudden realization reigned down upon him. "Em…..I still didn't get my _wallet_ last night! How am I going to get it _back?_ I don't even know who HAS it right now!" He turned to face his friend. "I _can't_ face Brian again – what if HE has it?" He swallowed the lump in his throat – he just couldn't face him again; he couldn't revisit the pain and humiliation.

"You just leave that to ME," Emmett vowed. "I'll take care of it," he promised him firmly. "You go on to school and don't worry about it, Baby." He placed his arm around his friend's slim shoulder and gave him a tender push. "Go on home and take your shower. Go on, now…..," he prodded him gently, smiling at him in reassurance. _I will be more than GLAD to have a little chat with that arrogant asshole_, he thought to himself.

Justin nodded finally and silently turned to leave, his head hanging down in dejection as he shuffled out of the back room of his and Emmett's shop. Emmett watched him sadly as he shook his head, his anger and fury beginning to slowly boil. _How DARE this man toy with Justin's heart and then just TRAMPLE on it!_ Quickly jotting down several grocery items for the wedding reception appetizers, he snatched up the list and hurried out of the shop, vowing to make a pit stop to speak to a certain ad executive on the way to the food store.

_

* * *

__Kinnetik – Same Time_

"Damn it, Justin…..Answer your fucking phone!" Brian muttered as he heard Justin's VM message playing once again. He had been trying for the past hour now to call the artist on his cell phone but he simply kept receiving his voicemail. He wasn't sure if Justin wasn't answering because he was in class at the moment or if he was, more likely, just refusing to answer his calls. He had called for at least two hours straight last night when he had left the diner but had run up against the same, frustrating brick wall. When he had stopped at Justin's shop on the way back to the loft, also, he had found the door locked and no telltale sounds coming from inside, and he had realized to his chagrin that he didn't even know where Justin's apartment _was_. So here he was, wanting desperately to talk to Justin, to try and explain, with no way of doing so.

Well, he didn't fucking care if Justin was refusing to answer his calls or not – he was going to go over to that damn cake design shop and camp out there as long as necessary until Justin showed up; he didn't care _how_ long it took. He had to somehow make things right again with him.

He punched in the extension for his assistant. "Cynthia?" There was no response, however, from the intercom. _Where the HELL could she BE?_ He was about to stand up and go find her when he heard a slight commotion coming from raised voices outside his office.

"You can't just walk in there."

"WATCH ME."

Brian looked over at his door just in time to see it open forcefully and Emmett Honeycutt walk in, followed closely behind by his assistant. "Brian…..he just walked past me," she offered by way of explanation. "Do you want me to call security?" She stood with her hand on the door, prepared to make the call to have this intruder thrown out.

Brian studied the angry, rigid stance of the nelly queen of catering and advised her, "No, Cynthia. I'll handle this." He sighed; he had half-expected this – Justin's _big brother_ coming to call on the big, bad wolf. He pretended to peer down at his laptop, immersed in work. "What _is_ it, Honeycutt? I'm working here."

"I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt," Emmett said without any preamble as he walked up to his desk and stood there defiantly, his hands crossed in front of his chest. "I _wanted_ you to be for real, to _care_ about him, because he cared about_ you_. I warned him about your reputation but he plunged in anyway."

Brian peered up at Justin's friend patronizingly as if he had lost his mind. He knew _exactly_ what the man was trying to say, and more importantly, _who_ he was talking about. But his stubborn pride wouldn't let him admit it. Moreover, he wasn't about to let this righteous-sounding man know that Justin's refusal to listen to him had hurt him more than anyone would ever know, and that he had possibly made the biggest fucking mistake of his life. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about, Honeycutt?" he snapped. "I TOLD you I'm _busy_."

Emmett huffed. "You can act ignorant all you want, but you know exactly what and WHO I'm talking about. You've hurt him enough, and you've had your fun at his expense – now _leave him alone._"

Brian glared at this audacious man who dared to confront him on his own turf, no less. He dropped all pretense of pretending not to know who he was talking about as he retorted, "What ARE you…his _bodyguard_? Justin's a big boy, Honeycutt."

"Yeah, he _is_," Emmett agreed. "But he's also too generous with his _heart_, which you have succeeded in crushing. So just do him a favor and _leave….him….ALONE."_

Brian stood up now, furious that this man dared to confront him, and truth be told, furious with _himself _that he had done such a horrible thing to Justin – the man he cared for more than he was able to admit, to himself or to others. His disgust with himself and his anger toward this presumptuous nelly queen had reached a boiling point as he waggled a long finger in the other man's chest. "Look, Honeycutt – this is _none _of your fucking business, so just STAY THE _HELL_ OUT OF IT_." _

When it came to his friends, however, Emmett was not going to be intimidated so easily. "I will NOT stay out of it," he scowled; his voice shook slightly at the other man's flushed, angry face but he was not going to back down. "Justin's my friend and I _care_ about him, UNLIKE YOU. So just give me his wallet and I'll depart from your _magnificent presence_," he quipped sarcastically as he held out his hand expectantly. "You won't have to deal with _either one of us, _then."

Brian frowned at him in puzzlement. "What the _hell_ are you TALKING_ about?_ I don't have his wallet."

Emmett rolled his eyes. "Oh, really…." _Did this man think he was stupid?_

"Yes, _oh really_," he pantomimed the other man. "I don't need Justin's _money_ and I DON'T have his fucking _wallet_."

"Well, he left it at the diner," Emmett advised the brunet, his confidence in his theory faltering just a bit at the adamant tone of the other man's voice; if he DID have Justin's wallet and was planning on using it somehow to see him again, he was certainly doing an excellent acting job of denying it.

Brian digested that new piece of information; that would explain, at least, why Justin had come back to the diner at that terribly unfortunate moment. In a way, he actually wished he DID have his wallet; at least it would give him a possible excuse to see him again and explain why he had acted the way he did. Now he would have to come up with another way. "Well, he might _have_, but I'm telling you _I don't HAVE it_," he insisted.

Emmett stared at the other man, trying to ascertain if he was telling the truth or not. He finally decided either way he apparently was NOT going to get Justin's wallet back today. He just hoped the man was telling the truth and someone _else_ had found out; that would at least give Justin a reason never to speak with this man again, which would suit Emmett just fine. Justin could do much better than this callous, arrogant brunet, and now that they had payment for the superhero cake and their advertising campaign successfully set up, Justin would never have to speak to this man again.

"Whatever," Emmett simply stated. "Fine. You _don't_ _have_ it. So now you _also_ don't have any reason to ever see Justin again." He stared intently at Brian as the two continued to challenge each other, neither one willing to back down. "I….said what I had to say," he finally stated simply. He spun on his heels and strutted out purposely, satisfied that he at least got his point across and fervently hoping that the man would follow his "advice" and leave his friend – and his fragile heart – alone.

Brian stared at the flamboyant man as he departed, partly astounded that this man would dare challenge him, but mainly ashamed of how he had treated Justin. But despite Honeycutt's "suggestion," he had no _intention_ of leaving Justin alone – he HAD to talk to him and make him understand what he had told Michael was not true at all – that in truth, he was falling in love with him and cared deeply for him. How, though, was he going to _accomplish that_? _Well, Kinney…..YOU'RE the top advertising man in Pittsburgh – WORK IT OUT_, he scolded himself, as he slowly sat down.

After a few minutes of halfheartedly attempting to work on his latest campaign for a new client, he sighed and finally closed his laptop firmly as he picked up his office phone to page his assistant. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate until he tried to settle things with his _Doughboy_. "Cynthia….I'm going out for a while."


	18. Chapter 18: A New Challenge

_Wednesday Evening – Cakes of Art_

Justin's heart pounded as he heard someone knocking on the showroom's front door; he had purposely avoided answering his cell phone for fear it would be Brian. His hurt over Brian's flippant, indifferent attitude toward their time together hadn't diminished; but it had been suffused just a bit with disappointment and resignation – after all, the man was _Brian Kinney_ – the successful, handsome, and much-desired answer to every gay man's dream. How could he have ever hoped to win this man's _heart_? For deep down, despite the way Brian had acted, he DID know the man had a heart inside somewhere – he had seen it when he had been with his son. Gus brought out a tender, sensitive side of the man that he didn't seem to show to anyone else. Justin had _thought_ he had seen that side of Brian the other night when they were alone, but now after what he had said to Michael and Lindsey, he couldn't be sure. He was so hurt and confused.

Now as he heard someone continuing to knock on the front door, even though their shop was closed for the evening, he worried it might be _him_. He wasn't ready to talk or see the man, but what if it was someone _else_?

He slowly trod out to the front room and peered out onto the street from the large display windows. He jumped back as he saw a shadow move in front of the glass; he was enormously relieved, however, to realize that it was Lindsey and not Brian. Lindsey smiled at him as she motioned with her hand for Justin to unlock the door.

Breathing in relief, Justin walked over to the door and unlocked the bolt. "Lindsey," he answered breathlessly; he could feel his heart still beating fast as he fought to control it. "I thought…."

"You thought I might be _Brian_?" she answered for him, as she entered the front door and closed it.

Justin sheepishly nodded. "Yeah…..stupid, I know," he berated himself. Did he really think he was so important in the other man's life that he would come running over here with his tail between his legs in regret? He turned away from Lindsey as he felt his face flushing in embarrassment.

"Justin," he heard his friend say behind him. "_You're _not the stupid one here…_Brian's_ the stupid one." _Stupid for not seeing what's in front of his damn face_. "The only thing you're guilty of is getting swept up in the maelstrom known as Brian's fucked-up _life_."

Justin turned around in surprise; he knew she and Brian were close – hell, they shared a son between them. He was stunned, therefore, to hear her lambasting her friend and defending _HIM_. He noticed, also, the apologetic expression on her face as she continued. "I'm _sorry_, Justin, for getting you involved in this in the first place."

"What do you _mean_, Lindsey?" he asked her, puzzled, as he sat down on a nearby stool by the display counter. He had allowed _himself_ to get involved with Brian; he knew from the start what type of man he was. After all, Brian had made no pretense about what he wanted from Justin; Justin had just tried to pretend that it was more than just a lustful pursuit, that the man actually wanted a _relationship_ with him. What a laugh! He reached over to pull a nearby chair toward her as she sat down near him and peered over with an almost embarrassed look. "If I hadn't set the two of you up at dinner and encouraged the two of you to pursue a relationship, this never would have happened. I should have _known_ better, knowing Brian's track record." She sighed. "I_ really_ thought, though, that this time he was _different_." She stood up restlessly and slowly ambled around the showroom, peeking in at the cake samples that Justin had constructed for potential customers. "I just don't _understand it_. I SAW the way he looked at you, Justin. Brian's _never_ looked or acted that way around ANYONE before. I really DO think he genuinely _cares_ about you. So why he would want to _sabotage_ that is beyond my comprehension."

Justin bit his lip thoughtfully; could he and Lindsey _both_ be wrong about him? Moreover, even if Brian really DID care about him, was he willing to forget what he had _said_? "Lindsey," he whispered softly, the pain of Brian's words still reverberating strongly in his head. "What he said really _hurt_. I don't know if I could ever really believe anything else he says to me now. I would always wonder if it's the truth or if he was just trying to con me into getting what he wants." He snorted. "Besides, as Brian so eloquently pointed out to you and Michael, he's already GOTTEN what he wanted. He doesn't make return appearances, even though maybe he'd make an exception in my case, since he thought I was such a _great lay_." He winced at the remembrance of Brian's boastful proclamation in front of his friends.

"Justin, now you know that's NOT true," Lindsey countered, even though she had no real idea why she was actually trying to _defend_ what Brian had done; after all, it was totally despicable. Sometimes her friend was his own worst enemy; would the man never _learn?_ "I mean, maybe you WERE his…..well, you _know_," she said sheepishly, struggling to say the right words. "What I mean is, I'm sure what the two of you have means more to him that what he's trying to _pretend_ it was."

"You mean what we HAD, Lindsey," Justin reminded her, as his right hand idly played with a spatula sitting on the counter. "Hell, I don't even know what it WAS, much less what it COULD be." He slid off the stool and placed the kitchen tool back down on the counter. He peered into the display at several cakes he had meticulously constructed out of realistic-looking plaster and epoxy materials to simulate the real, edible product. It had taken him _hours_ to design and create these samples for his and Emmett's shop. "Since the store's business has taken off so much in the last couple of weeks, I've spent all my waking hours rushing here, to school, and the deli. I'm not even sure what _sleep _IS anymore," he said, grimacing. "Frankly, Lindsey, I can't _afford _to stop and analyze what Brian's motives are. He's apparently had his fun and gotten what he wanted; let him move on to the NEXT victim and I'll just move on with my LIFE." _So WHY did his life seem so hollow and EMPTY all of a sudden?_

Lindsey's eyes softened at the sound of the sad, cynical tone in her young friend's voice. She had had such high hopes for him and Brian. She had thought _finally…_Brian had met his match in this passionate, fiery artist who could more than stand up to him. So why had the man proceeded to fuck it all up? Was there any hope in patching this rift? She knew there wouldn't be unless Brian came down off his high horse and realized what he was about to lose – the best thing that had ever happened to him. She felt certain he would never get another chance again if he didn't do something and _fast_.

She realized she had almost forgotten the main reason what she had sought Justin out. Reaching in her jacket pocket, she pulled out her friend's wallet. "I found this on the table at the diner," she explained as she held it out to him.

"My wallet!" he exclaimed. "Thank God! I was worried how I was going to get that back." _Without having to see Brian again_. "I'm glad YOU had it," he told her, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid, although he had a feeling both he and Lindsey knew what he had not uttered aloud. He was profoundly relieved that he would not have to confront Brian again. "Thank you for bringing it over to me."

She nodded and smiled softly. "You're welcome. I guess that was the reason why you came back to the diner yesterday?" she surmised.

He nodded sadly. "Yeah…..I knew it would make me late for work – thank goodness I didn't wind up getting fired over it – but I wanted to retrieve it. I….also wanted to see Brian again," he admitted softly. _What a fool I was._ "That certainly turned out to be a _memorable_ experience," he uttered sarcastically, shaking his head.

Lindsey's heart went out to this sad but beautiful man who had opened his heart up just enough to get it firmly shattered. She was determined somehow to make Brian Kinney see what he was about to lose if he didn't wake up and correct the damage he had done, if that was even _possible_ now. "I'm sure he wishes he could take it back, Justin," she told him sincerely. She really DID think Brian was regretting what he had said terribly, but his stupid, foolish pride was preventing him from taking the next step to rectify the situation.

Justin turned around to look at her doubtfully. "Maybe he does," he conceded. "But I'm not psychic and I don't have the time or energy any more to analyze his motives. I have a responsibility to my future and to the shop here to concentrate on what's important right _now_. Speaking of which, I have an order to work on tonight before I get some sleep, so I appreciate you bringing me my wallet, Lindsey, and for caring about me, but I really need to get back to work now. Tell Gus and Mel I said, hello, okay?"

She looked at him sadly; she was obviously being dismissed, albeit politely. Had Justin simply given up on any possibility of forgiving Brian for his crass behavior last night? Well, if he _had_, Lindsey really couldn't blame him; she felt Brian actually needed Justin more than Justin needed _him_. Brian may be the more experienced of the two when it came to satisfying his insatiable libido with meaningless tricks, but when it came to _loving_ someone, Brian had a LOT to learn. This young man was just the one to help him – if Brian would only let him and if Justin would _allow_ it. Short of telling Brian what a moronic jackass he had been last night, though, there really wasn't much else she could do. It was either time for Brian to grow up and realize what was _really_ important, or miss out on a chance to love and BE loved by this wonderful, talented but understandably hurt young man.

"Of course…I understand," she told him with a slight smile. "But I hope you don't work _too_ hard, Justin. You need to take _care _of yourself. You won't do anyone any good if you work yourself to exhaustion, you know."

"Yes, _Mother_," Justin quipped wryly as he accompanied his friend to the door of his shop. "But it would help if somehow I could add about 10 more hours onto each day." He stifled a yawn almost in perfect timing to his statement as Lindsey couldn't help leaning over and planting a small kiss on his cheek; there was just something about this man that tended to bring out the nurturing side of her. "Promise me you'll come over for dinner again soon." At Justin's suspicious glance and raised eyebrows, she added hastily, "I promise no _unexpected guests_ this time." She crossed her chest with her hands in a symbolic gesture of truth as Justin nodded his understanding.

"I will," he told her softly. "And thanks, Lindsey. Thanks for everything."

As he closed the door slowly and firmly latched the shop's deadbolt, he turned and leaned against the door, sighing; he almost felt right now like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Sometimes the hectic pace of his current life was dizzying in its complexity, and Brian's rather sudden appearance into the mix had only served to throw his life even _more_ upside down. Just because he was terribly hurt and disappointed in Brian, that didn't mean he could just wipe away all the feelings he had for the man. _Admit it, Justin…..you still care about this man, maybe even LOVE him_. _You sure can pick them_, he thought ruefully as he closed his eyes in disgust. Although in his own defense, he really didn't _choose_ to get involved with this self-assured, cocky man, who was practically a novice when it came to actually being involved in a relationship with someone and _caring_ about them. Why did he have to go and get himself tangled up with _this _man, though? He huffed out a breath of disbelief, finding it hard to comprehend that this complicated, unforgettable man had just entered his life recently. In some ways it seemed like he had known Brian forever when the man let his guard down. They had clicked so well together, both physically and emotionally. His breathing quickened as he thought of the glorious, sensual, mind blowing night when they had finally made love. Oh, he knew Brian would call it just a fantastic round of fucking, not only that night but the following morning; especially after his bragging statement yesterday about Justin being a "great lay." But he knew better; yes, they had fucked like two rabid dogs in heat, but in between the passionate, almost animalistic rounds of sex, they had _made love_. Brian had been gentle, tender, and caring. Where did that man _go_ when he was sitting at the diner, boasting about his latest, ultimate conquest? He shook his head; he was too tired at the moment to try and self-analyze the enigmatic puzzle known as Brian Kinney – he had way too much to do and way too little time to do it in. A rush of air escaped his lips as he turned and headed toward the back of the room to continue working on his latest design for this weekend's wedding, trying with difficulty to push a certain man to the back of his mind.

* * *

_Wednesday Evening – Brian's Loft_

"Well, if this isn't a distinct honor," Bennett Rodgers exclaimed in surprise. "How are you, you old bastard?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Hey, watch it with the _OLD_ shit, okay?" Brian growled. "If I recall correctly, you were a year _older_ than ME."

Rodgers snickered. "Yeah, you always _did_ have a good memory…I guess you must not be senile yet then. To what do I owe the _honor_, Kinney? I _already_ assigned my advertising to your company earlier this year during a fit of temporary insanity, remember?"

Brian snorted. "Right…..I know it couldn't be because I managed to help you double your exposition bookings the year before." Thanks to Brian's somewhat unorthodox yet brilliant as always marketing campaign for the man's company, events at the downtown Pittsburgh exposition center had increased dramatically; now he was about to cash in on former college roommate's success with a favor of his own. "I understand you're in charge of events at the upcoming Bridal expo next week."

"You heard right. Why, Brian? Does this mean you've finally gone _straight_?"

Brian grimaced at the image that conjured up. "Hardly, Rodgers. I'm still strictly a _cock_ man, trust me." He shuddered at the mere thought of it.

"Then why the interest? You've already gotten a commitment to do all my advertising for the year."

"Yeah, yeah, I know…..and you should consider yourself fucking _lucky_ you've got me. No, I was asking for another reason. I read about the cake competition that's being held at the same time."

Rodgers frowned; why in the world would his old college friend be interested in _that_? "You mean the _Wedding Cake Wars_?"

"Yeah…..that's the one."

"What _about_ it?" he asked curiously. He would have guessed this man would have been the LAST person who would show an interest in something like that.

"I'd like to enter someone in the competition," he told the other man firmly.

Rodgers was totally mystified where this was coming from. "Have you taken up a hobby, Kinney?" he asked the man teasingly.

"Fuck no, will you _listen to me?"_ He shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. "It's for someone else…..a (_just what should he CALL the other man?)..._a _friend _of mine. A very _talented _friend." _Not to mention beautiful, sexy, creative, and passionate – and great in bed, too. _He tried to wipe all those delicious thoughts from his mind as he fought to concentrate on his current conversation.

"Brian….I don't have any control over that competition…..it's being sponsored by the cable station, not my production company. It's merely being held at the expo and I'm helping coordinate the events. I don't decide who gets to compete in it. Besides, they made the decision as to who gets to compete long before now – after all, it's _next week_. They decide those things way in advance. Do you know how many cake designers applied to compete in it – after all, the grand prize is $10,000. About five _THOUSAND_ throughout the country and only TEN were chosen to compete. Your friend may be talented – knowing you, in more ways than one," he cracked, "But it's way too late to do anything about it NOW."

Brian was afraid that would be his friend's response; however, he was not going to give up so easily. "There must be _some_ way to at least show the sponsors his creations. He's fucking _brilliant_! I've never seen anything like what he comes up with. He's _amazing_."

Rodgers listened bemused at the passionate, almost _dreamy_ sound in Brian's voice; it may very well be that this "friend" was indeed very talented in the cake design field, but he had a feeling the brunet wasn't enthralled with him strictly for that reason; could it be that his non-committal, former college roommate was actually _smitten_ with this man's OTHER _amazing_ abilities? Of course, he would never suggest such a thing out loud; to do so would no doubt be met with a vehement denial more in line with Kinney's well-known, devil-may-care, fuck-em-and-leave-em reputation.

"I…don't know, Brian…..I just don't see how it's possible. You must think I have more influence than I DO. These are cable bigwigs that make the decision, NOT me."

Brian rolled his eyes, not deterred in the slightest. He didn't get to be such a successful agency executive by giving up; he wasn't going to give up on this idea OR on winning his doughboy back. "Oh, come on, you know the CEO's of those companies aren't the ones that make the decisions, it's the executive assistants and interns! Surely you know _someone_ inside that company, don't you?"

Rodgers hesitated, mulling that question over. Kinney was certainly being persistent about this; both he and the other man knew there were always ways around the rules. God knows the man had certainly been instrumental in increasing his profit margin substantially in the last two years. He was apparently extremely determined to figure out a way to at least bring his "friend" to the attention of the cable sponsors. "Well…..I suppose I _could_ get a hold of someone there. I do have a friend who works in the promotions department. Maybe he could somehow at least bring your friend's designs to the attention of the appropriate party."

"_NOW you're talking!"_ Brian crowed triumphantly; he knew Rodgers wouldn't let him down.

"I'm not promising anything, mind you," Rodgers quickly warned him. "I just said I'd TALK to my friend – that doesn't mean shit as far as it going any further than that."

"I understand," Brian told him; but he had no doubts that once the sponsors saw some of Justin's fantastic designs, though, they would clear any possible hurdles in their path to bring Justin into their competition. They would be fucking _fools_ not to spotlight his talent at the expo. And just the thought of what his own little, beautiful, half-starving doughboy could do with that $10,000 didn't hurt, either. Of course, if Justin wanted to also show his _personal _appreciation to him by letting him fuck his adorable, bubble butt repeatedly until he couldn't walk straight for a week, he wouldn't complain about _that_, either. But for now he would simply settle on helping to make amends to him and then work on the rest later.

"Okay," he heard his friend tell him, satisfied. "Just so you understand. Would you be able to e-mail me some of your friend's designs so I can forward them on to my contact at the cable company? Again, I can't promise anything but I can at least see that someone there looks at them."

Brian smiled, at last somewhat cheered by this possibility. "I'll send them over to you within an hour. Keep me posted, okay?"

"Will do, roomie," Rodgers told him. "And if I succeed AND your friend happens to win, I'll expect an advertising campaign next year that will knock my proverbial socks off – _pro bono_, of course."

Brian smirked; he always knew his former roommate was a smart man – maybe not as smart as HE was, but still pretty manipulative and cunning. He admired that in the man. "You got it," he promised him as the two of them ended their conversation. If he succeeded somehow in winning a certain someone back, _anything_ would be well worth the tradeoff. He quickly stood up from the couch and walked over to his laptop to bring up Justin's ad campaign with some of the artist's designs included, silently hoping that his own initial _personal _advertising campaign would succeed in regaining his heart's desire. This could very well be the most important advertising pitch of his entire LIFE.

* * *

_Cakes of Art – Friday Morning_

A blond whirlwind yanked the front door open and came running breathlessly in. "I'm sorry I'm late, Em….I missed the damn bus over at York Street and had to run a couple of blocks to catch it down the street. Em?" The door had been unlocked so he knew his friend had to be here somewhere. He had told Emmett he would meet him at the shop so they could coordinate transporting his cake and Em's canapés over to the reception hall for the Murphy wedding this weekend. Thanks to his missing the bus, however, he was now running almost an hour late.

"Justin! Where have you BEEN, Baby?" Emmett's normally excitable, slightly squeaky voice was even more animated as he rushed into the front of the shop at the sound of the blond's voice calling to him. "Why didn't you answer your phone?" Justin noticed he was clutching a large white envelope in his hand and waving it around back and forth like it was a pendulum.

Justin looked at him sheepishly. He had turned his phone off while he had been in class as the instructor always demanded they do and he had simply forgotten to turn it back on. "I turned it off for class and forgot to flip it back on," he told his friend apologetically, noticing the other man's barely-controlled energy. Emmett was literally rocking up and down on the heels of his feet in nervous delight as if he had some big secret to tell. "What's up?" he asked him curiously.

"Open this!" he demanded excitedly as he handed the large envelope to his business partner. "You're not going to _BELIEVE THIS!"_ As Justin took the proffered thick envelope, Emmett smiled broadly at him. _Just what in the world was going on_? Justin only hoped it was something pleasant – he had far too much melodrama and heartache this past week – he didn't think he could take any more at the moment.

He looked at the rather thick package and noticed oddly that there wasn't any postage on it. It was addressed to their business here in Pittsburgh but the return address indicated a name, _Culinary Productions,_ and an address in New York City. "Where did this _come_ from?" he asked his friend curiously, as he flipped the envelope over and lifted the gummed flap to retrieve the documents.

Emmett could barely stand still as he told his friend, "A courier dropped it off earlier today. It didn't have your name on the envelope so I just thought it was some kind of advertising or something." Since Brian had reconstructed their website and their business had increased, it seemed they were continuously getting flyers and other business promotions from all types of companies trying to sell them cooking or cake decorating supplies, as well as trying to sell them magazine and web advertising; Emmett had figured this was just more of the same until he had opened the envelope.

He watched, eyes twinkling, as Justin began to read the letter. He beamed as he noticed Justin's eyes widening as he realized what the letter's subject was. "Can you fucking _believe it,_ Baby?" he screamed. "This is HUGE! _TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS, _Justin!"

Justin stood there in shock with the papers in his hand. Could this be for REAL? A nationally-televised cake designing competition and he was being invited to be one of the eleven _competitors?_ He thought briefly of eleven being a rather odd amount for the number of competitors, but it didn't really matter. As he leafed through the rest of the paperwork, which appeared to contain a rather lengthy contract that needed his signature, as well as a more detailed description of what he could expect during the contest, his head started to swim. This was indescribable; if he could somehow pull this off and actually WIN the contest, it would help him and Em greatly to increase their business, as well as keep him in school. Maybe he wouldn't have to worry where his money was coming from each month for a change. Maybe he could even quit the deli and actually get some honest-to-God _sleep _occasionally. He shook his head in disbelief, still too stunned to fully comprehend if this was real or not. He DID know that this could truly change his life for the better.

"Isn't it _wonderful_, Baby?" Em gushed; he was so happy for his friend and he had no doubt Justin would prevail in the competition. He thought it was about time that something like this happened to Justin – he certainly deserved some good news for a change. "I know you can do it."

Justin looked over his friend and smiled – excited about the possibility but also grateful for the other man's support. He was so glad that he and Emmett had decided to go into business together. Their enthusiasm for life and earnest desire to be the best at what they did complimented each other perfectly. Now if he could only be successful and prevail in this contest, it might launch them in an even better, more prosperous direction for both of them. As he continued to glance through the letter's content, his eyes fell upon the dates for the contest and he let out a soft gasp.

"Em…this contest is for _NEXT WEEK!_ How in the hell can I possibly get ready that _fast_?" His mind started to race over all the details. "I'll have to create the design, purchase all the supplies, do a test run of the cake to clock the time needed…" His head whirled with all the details. How in the world could he be ready by next Wednesday, the first day of the competition? "I'll have to talk to my professors about missing three days of school, not to mention the deli. I almost lost my job when I went in there late; if I tell the owner I have to miss three days of work next week, he's not going to be happy. In fact, he's liable to fire my ass on the spot." Was it worth possibly losing his job over the slim chance that he could win the competition? On the other hand, how could he turn something like this down? He glanced down at the letter again; at least there were smaller amounts awarded for the 2nd and 3rd place finishers; $5,000 and $2,500, respectively. Even finishing, then, in the top three would help his finances and perhaps replace what he would lose temporarily in income if he WERE to lose his job at the deli. Surely he could find some other type of similar job to replace it.

As if reading his thoughts, Emmett encouraged him, "You can DO it, Baby. I KNOW you can. You'll win this contest hands-down. There's no way anyone else could possibly come up with the types of designs that YOU do. You _have_ to DO this! You'll be kicking your cute little ass forever if you don't!" _How could Justin not see what a fantastic talent he was…he HAD to do this. It was almost like fate._

Justin looked over at his enthusiastic partner and smiled wryly. "Yeah….," he said, his heart beginning to beat faster from the adrenalin and the thought that just maybe he _could_ win this contest. Besides, it would sure beat waiting on lecherous diners at the deli and he might even get his face on national television, at least for a few seconds; that would do wonders for promotion of their business. He had avidly watched various versions of cooking contest shows on TV when he could find the time, however, and found them fascinating as well as just a little unnerving for the contestants. Could he do this without coming apart at the seams? Well, there was only one way to find out.

He squared shoulders as the decision was made. "I'll do it," he told Emmett, smiling broadly. "But only if you'll be my partner in crime," he told his friend as he beamed at him now. "Think you can find an appropriate outfit to wear for nationwide television?

Emmett jumped and down in glee as he clapped his hands at the prospect. "Are you _kidding?_ I'll need a NEW one for THIS event, Baby! Maybe something with a little chef's hat or something to do with weddings...and it's _GOT _to be colorful. No, wait…..we'll have to get matching outfits with the name of our _business _on them! Yeah! And cute little visors. You'll have to design some adorable little artwork, Justin, to go with our name, too! Oh, this is going to be so much _FUN!" _He rushed over and gave the blond a big hug. "Better get started on what we're going to wear while you work on the design, Sweetie! Toodles!" Emmett clapped one last time in delight before turning to rush out of the shop to get started; after all, he had an important mission to accomplish.

Justin laughed; it felt so good to actually be happy about something for a change after the last few days. Maybe this was just the thing he needed to change his luck. Shaking his head at his friend's over-the-top fashion ideas, he walked over and picked up a sketch pad to begin drawing some preliminary ideas for a possible wedding cake design. He knew if he wanted to win, it would have to be even more outrageous than the previous cakes he had created; it would have to be something that had never been done before. Smiling to himself, his blue eyes sparkled as some initial ideas popped into his head; his tongue darted out slightly as a particular inspiration hit him and he rushed to jot the idea down before he forgot it. Maybe, just maybe he could do this; maybe he _could_ win this thing. For the first time in several days, his excitement over this new challenge managed to take up residence inside of him and provide some much-needed salve for his wounded, tender heart.

_

* * *

_

Kinnetik – Same Time

Brian's pulse began to race a little as he heard Cynthia telling him who was on the phone. "Thanks, Cynthia…..._Bennett_! I hope your call means you've got some good news for me."

"Well, either your _friend_ (he placed a special emphasis on the word, because both of them knew this man was something more than just a _friend_ to Brian) is an extremely talented designer or you are one lucky bastard, because once my business contact at the cable company took a look at the designs you sent to me, they called me back within the fucking _hour_ to tell me they were going to make an exception to the number of contestants and invite him to compete. The invitation and contest material were supposed to be delivered to his shop this morning by special courier."

Brian's heart leapt at the good news, although he wasn't surprised in the least about Justin's invitation to complete; the man was absolutely, fucking amazing when it came to his designs, along with several _other_ "talents" he did not wish to discuss with his former roommate. Still, if it hadn't been for this man, Justin wouldn't have had the chance to show everyone else what he was capable of. "Thanks, Bennett," he told his friend. "I owe you a new advertising campaign. When you're ready, give my office a call and I'll handle all the details."

Rodgers chuckled. "Don't worry – I'll be in touch. I've done all I can to help out your _friend_. Good luck to him – I'll be watching."

Brian smiled to himself. _So will I,_ he thought. _So will I._


	19. Chapter 19: Contest Preparations

_Monday Morning – Two Days Before Competition_

"Well, how does it look?" Justin looked over in amusement as Emmett twirled around a couple of times, almost swaggering like a peacock as he modeled his newly-acquired outfit for nationwide TV. "I think this will look just _fabulous_ in front of the camera, don't you think?" he asked, smiling broadly. He clapped his hands, barely able to control his excitement. "Just think, Baby, in only two days, you'll be working your cute little tail off not only in front of a huge convention audience but also in front of millions of television viewers! And I'll be right there with you – struttin' my stuff!"

"Thanks for mentioning that, Em," Justin replied, "now my nervous stomach is even _more_ churned up. I'm trying to _forget_ about that part." Ever since he had made up his mind to compete, the days following receipt of the invitation had flown by in a whirlwind; between working at the deli, going to class, keeping up with the orders he had already promised to deliver, and trying to come up with an appropriate design for the cake competition, he was barely able to squeeze in three or four hours of sleep at best. Lately he felt like he was just walking around in a trance on automatic pilot. The nearer the time came for the competition, also, the more nervous he was getting. If it wasn't for the exposure the contest would bring, as well as the grand prize money he could badly use, he would have never agreed to do it. Now, as the time rapidly approached, he found that he was second guessing himself. It was one thing to be talented and deemed one of the best designers here in Pittsburgh; just how good would he be, however, in the face of other creative artists from all the _country_? Hell, it wasn't even just the U.S.; he had read in the paper where three of the competitors were from Britain, Italy, and Switzerland. Just how good would he turn out to be? He may just find himself falling flat on his fucking face…..

"Justin?" He turned embarrassed as he realized Emmett was looking at him questioningly. "I'm sorry, Em," he told his friend. "I'm just getting so nervous about all this. What if I find out I suck compared to these other designers? I mean, I've never had any formal training – just my art classes. Maybe I just _think_ I'm okay at it."

Emmett placed his hands on his hips as he glared at his friend. "Okay? Just _okay_? Are you fucking _kidding_ me? You're amazing, Baby! Everyone that sees your cakes thinks they're totally _wonderful!_ How can you _doubt that?_ I don't care if they bring the fucking _Queen of England's_ personal cake designer out here – you've got them all beat, hands down! Now I don't want to hear you say anything like that again, you hear me?"

Justin smiled at his friend's adamant, supportive declaration. Well, there was ONE thing he could be sure of – Emmett was definitely a staunch supporter of his work. "Sorry, Em," he told his friend. "I won't let it happen again," he vowed, tongue in cheek.

Emmett nodded vigorously. "Good. Now I'm waiting for you to answer my question. How does it look?" He pirouetted around again, more slowly this time, so Justin could get a better glance. As he turned around to face his friend again, he placed his hands out in a Vanna White impersonation. "Well?"

Justin smiled; Emmett's enthusiasm was definitely contagious and made him feel just a little better about his chances at the event. "Well, if they give extra points for the best-dressed team, I think we'll have a good chance," he told his friend admiringly. "I've got to hand it to you, Em, you certainly know how to dress for the occasion."

Justin stared at the taller man's outfit – a ruffled, lavender-colored satin shirt and eggplant-hued leather pants, topped off by a royal purple scarf tied jauntily around his neck; he had thankfully stuffed the tails of the scarf inside his open collar; Justin had cautioned him about having any hanging type of clothing on his body while they were around industrial-strength mixers and other appliances. With Justin's luck, he could just see Emmett's name in the paper the next day due to being choked to death when his scarf became entangled in one of their beaters.

Justin nodded. "I think you look absolutely _royal_ in that outfit, Mr. Honeycutt," he told his friend affectionately. "I've got a surprise for you, too, by the way, that should go just great with your _understated outfit_," he teased his friend. As Emmett watched curiously, Justin walked over to a cardboard box sitting on top of a nearby counter and pulled out a hat and an apron. "I just got these back from the embroidery shop this morning – what do you think?"

Justin held up a crisp, white apron with the words _Cakes of Art_ elaborately scrolled diagonally across the front of the chest area in vibrant blue, flowing script; below the inscription was an artist's palette tinted with several different colors. Instead of a paintbrush hovering overhead, however, there was a spatula coated at the tip with what looked like icing the same color as the title. At the bottom of the palette near the pockets were the words of the advertising slogan that Brian had created for them: _Where edible art and imagination come together_, their phone number and the website's address_._ He held up a matching bibbed cap, also emblazoned with the shop's title above a small design of a wedding cake underneath.

Emmett smiled widely and clapped his hands. "It's _perfect_, Justin! I knew you'd come up with something fantastic! Let me try it on!" he asked, rushing over to grab it out of a bemused Justin's outstretched hands. He pulled the apron over his head and tied the strings around his waist as he placed the cap at a tilt on his head. He hurried over to the glass showcase and peered in to see his image. "Well, I look a little pudgy in THIS reflection," he huffed a little disappointed, but then he brightened. "I'm sure once I can see myself in an actual mirror, though, I'll look _stupendous!_" He turned around to look at Justin oddly. "You don't think they'll give out an award for most fashionably dressed, too, do you?" he asked hopefully.

Justin laughed in spite of himself. "No, Em, I don't think so. But if they _did_, I'm sure you'd win hands down," he assured him. As Em smiled back in appreciation, Justin thought about how thankful he was to have Emmett as a business partner and friend. He didn't know what he would have done this past week without his amusing antics and constant, bantering chatter, as well as his unwavering support. It had made a pretty heartbreaking week just a little more bearable. Looking at Emmett wearing one of their aprons with their new slogan on it made him think about the reason for his heartbreak, however. He sighed sadly. Despite Brian's arrogant statement about seeing him as merely an excellent lay, he still suspected otherwise. The tender looks and gentle touches the man had given him weren't those of a man merely responding to someone he found sexually exciting or challenging; they were of a man who actually _cared_ about him, more than the man was probably willing to ever admit. But why did Brian find that prospect so scary? For that's what Justin thought it was – _fear_. The great, unstoppable, confidently superior Brian Kinney was _scared_ – scared to care about him, maybe even _love_ him. He was sure of it. But that still didn't take away from the hurt and pain those statements had caused him – even now, just the thought of them made his heart drop – but it did help him at least understand _why_ Brian had said them. It wasn't his job, however, to rectify it. He had more pressing matters at the moment – namely, preparing for a contest that might just be the most important event in his life, and might just propel his and Emmett's business into the big time, maybe even help gain them national exposure.

He had a lot to prepare for in the next few days, but with Emmett's help, and the fact that he had been able to persuade his boss to let him off for a few days, he was cautiously optimistic that maybe they could at least come through the competition without him making a total fool of himself. He had never competed against anyone else, however, so he didn't really have any idea how it would turn out. But at the very least, it should certainly be an interesting experience.

He turned his focus back to his friend, who was asking him something a schedule. "What, Em?"

Emmett looked back at his friend patiently; he knew Justin life's this past week had been a rollicking roller coaster of emotions, from the most fantastic high to the lowest ebb. Right now he figured the blond was about in the middle, but he could tell he was still upset over what Kinney had done to him. Well, he was determined to get his friend's mind off that man. "I _said_, what's the schedule look like for this week's expo, Sweetie? Will we need someone to help us man the exhibit booth while we're competing?"

Justin reached over to pick up the paperwork that had been delivered to the shop. He glanced over the schedule sheet to refresh his memory. "Whew," he blew out, a little apprehensive over the tight schedule they would have to maintain during the week. "The expo starts the same day as the competition – Wednesday. The hall opens at 10:00 a.m. for the expo itself, and the competition begins in the Grand Auditorium at 12:00 sharp. It says we'll have five hours to mix up and bake the cake to get it ready to frost and decorate. Then Thursday, the same schedule repeats itself – the doors open at 10 and Day 2 of the contest starts up again at noon. Friday's the same, with the exception that the show will be televised live on the cable channel starting at 6:00 p.m. while the final decorations are being finished. Looks like we WILL need Nathan to watch the booth for us while we're in front of the cameras." Nathan was the high school kid they had recently hired to help with the extra business their shop had been experiencing lately due in large part to their new advertising campaign.

As Justin turned his attention back to the contest, he shivered at the thought of all those people, both in the expo center and on TV, watching him working on his cake. "I hope I don't fall apart, Em, or totally freeze up. What if I manage to _burn_ the thing? What if they hate my design? These other competitors are probably pros at what they do. I wonder who the judges are going to be?" His words tumbled out in a torrent of nerves as he glanced down at the paperwork and noticed his hand actually shaking; there was no mention of the judges, only that they were nationally renowned in the world of either wedding planning or cake design. _What had he gotten himself INTO? Was he ready for this?_

Emmett clucked at him, his hands on his hips in exasperation. "Now don't you start again with the doubts, Baby," he sternly lectured him, his eyes peering at his friend intently. "You are one of the most talented people I know, Justin. You can stand up proudly with the best of them, and now the rest of the world is going to know that, too!" he told him with conviction.

Justin's voice choked up a little with emotion over his friend's support. "Thanks, Em," he told his friend sincerely. "I couldn't do this without you, you know," he told him warmly as he smiled back at him.

"Well don't you worry about a thing, because I'll be right there with you, flour, cake batter, spatula and all," he assured him. "Hmmm….Now if I remember correctly, you were talking about doing a practice run beforehand?"

"Oh, shit! I almost forgot about that!" Justin smacked himself a little in the head; how could he have forgotten one of the most important parts? It was vital that he at least prepare and bake a prototype of the base so he could make sure his timing was accurate; even being off by as much as twenty minutes either way and it could be a fucking disaster. The last thing he wanted was to make a total fool of himself on national TV. "Yeah…..I need to do that. I'm going to have to run over to the party supply store and pick up all the ingredients and the decorations, though. Can you meet me back here around noon and we'll get started on it?"

"I sure can," Emmett verified. "But while you're doing that, I'm going to go get my manicure done. If they're going to show me in close ups, I want to make sure every inch of me is _perfect_." As he rushed to the entrance to leave, he paused, frowning. "They say TV adds ten pounds onto you – maybe I should have bought a smaller size in the pants," before he grabbed the door to open it and rushed out. "Be back later, Baby!" he called out just before the store was bathed in quiet again.

Justin huffed out a soft chuckle at his flamboyant friend's antics. _Thank God for Em_, he thought, as he turned to study the information packet the production company had sent him. He noticed each competitor had been assigned a wedding cake theme to work from, ranging from nature to architecture to romance to history. The sponsor had advised the contestants that the themes had been chosen at random; Justin had been given a theme of _adventure_. He grimaced; it was good that he had been given such a fairly broad concept to work with, but that also made it somewhat difficult. He had to try and surmise just what would make the judges take the most notice of his work. How was he going to incorporate the theme of adventure into a notable design for someone's wedding so that it stood out among all the others? He _could_ use the idea he had had for the Murphy wedding last week with the skydiving bride; that would cover both the adventurous angle but also throw a little humor in as well. But he was never one to take the easy way out; he wanted something new that would knock the judges' socks off. He couldn't very well go to the party supply store and get his cake ingredients and decorating items until he knew exactly what he was going to do. He mulled over several possible ideas before he chuckled softly over his decision. The idea that came to him would take advantage of the recent plethora of comic characters brought to life on the big screen and it would still combine adventure with humor, as well as motion, since that seemed to resound so favorably with his clients lately, but this one would be a new design for him. Hopefully, too, it would be a hit with the judges as well as the public. His mind made up about his theme, his tongue darted out slightly in concentration and he licked his lips as he began to jot down a list of which items he would need before grabbing his jacket lying nearby and rushing out the door for the party supply store.

_

* * *

_

Steel City Party Supply Store – Late Morning

Brian stood impatiently behind the overweight, balding guy standing in front of him with his basket of snack food and beer. _Why couldn't this guy have gone to the fucking GROCERY STORE instead_? he groused to himself. The man was not only buying items he could have easily purchased at the local food store, he was clearly over the 10-item limit prominently displayed above the checkout counter. Apparently, math was not one of the guy's strong points. _Where's a u-scan-it register when you NEED one?_

If it hadn't been for the enormous selection of more expensive wines stocked by the party supply store, he would have never set foot here again. But he wanted to impress a major gourmet food expeditor, however, so he knew presenting them with a politically-correct fine wine would speak volumes for Brian's own epicurean knowledge. It was well-known around Pittsburgh that the Steel City Party Supply Store had the most extensive collection of wines in the city; hence, here he was, standing in line, barely able to tolerate his interminable wait behind the inconsiderate man in front of him.

Brian's look of disgust and his determined desire to purchase the expensive bottle of wine so he could get out of the store as soon as possible was quickly forgotten, however, as he spied a familiar blond headed man walking in. He watched avidly but unobserved as Justin entered the facility, retrieved a shopping basket and turned confidently toward one of the far right aisles. Brian's eyes continued to follow him closely while his heart leapt at the sight of the man who had captivated him from the first day they had met, ironically in this same store. It had been almost a week since he had last seen Justin, but since then he couldn't get him out of his mind. His face flushed as he recalled how it had felt to cradle the other man's warm, slight body tightly in his arms, and how it had felt when Justin had rained tender kisses all over his body from his face down to his toes before his succulent lips had latched onto his cock and played him like a maestro performing with a much-loved instrument. He could still remember how the blond sounded when he called out his name in the throes of passion, and how Justin's face would scrunch up slightly in ecstasy just before he came with a cry, his seed sticky and sweet all over Brian's stomach. But he also recalled vividly Justin's look of pain and anger at the diner when he had said those horrible, so untrue comments about how he felt about him.

"Hey….You planning on buying that or just _drinking_ it in line?" he heard an irritated female voice sound behind him; as he glared at the middle-aged woman standing behind him with her shopping basket, he noticed to his slight mortification that the overweight, arithmetically-challenged man who had been in front of him in line had paid for his items and left the checkout lane without him even noticing it was his turn now.

Glancing down at the bottle in his hand, Brian made a snap decision as he quickly placed it down on the floor nearby and took off determinedly toward the rear of the store where he had last seen a certain blond spitfire heading.

Justin slowly walked down the aisle containing the cake decorating items, pausing periodically to place a needed object into his shopping basket. He realized as he got closer to the middle of the aisle where it intersected with a main crossway that he was in the same vicinity where he had first met a certain cocky, arrogant, and dangerously-sexy brunet. He sighed; would he _ever_ be able to rid his mind of thoughts about Brian? And why should he really even _care?_ Brian had had a choice when it came to telling the truth about how he felt about him, and he had chosen to dismiss him as a casual fuck. It wasn't _his_ fault if the man couldn't be truthful about his feelings for him to his own friends. He shook his head sadly and sighed; he didn't have time to dwell on it at the moment. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he turned his mind back to the business at hand and peered upward at the fondant packages, looking for the colors he would need for his latest, and quite probably, most important design.

He couldn't quite find the exact shade of dark green he was seeking, so he finally settled on purchasing a couple rolls of the white fondant so he could mix it with some food coloring to reach the desired color. Satisfied with his decision, he walked a few feet down and searched for a box of thick wooden dowels he would need for his creation; if it went as he imagined, it would be quite tall and heavy and would need the extra support.

"Fuck!" he cursed under his breath, as he reached as high as he could; his fingertips brushed the box of dowels, but as far as retrieving it, he might as well forget it. "Naturally, they have to be on top," he muttered aloud as he strained to reach the box on the very top shelf. Why was it that when you needed something at the store, it was always just barely out of reach?

As he stepped on the lowest metal shelf in an attempt to stretch on his tiptoes to try one last time to reach them, he was gratified to see another hand reach up easily and grab the desired box for him. "Thanks," he said, turning around to glance at his benefactor to express his appreciation. Unfortunately, he was so startled by who his rescuer was that his foot promptly slipped and he tripped on the shelf he was standing on. As he felt himself about to fall, he was spared his fate by a pair of strong, muscular arms that quickly grabbed him from behind in a firm embrace and held him tightly anchored against his own body.

Brian silently thanked the fates for his good fortune as he kept a firm grip on the warm, slender, and oh-so-familiar body he held in his arms. It felt so fucking good to have this man back in his arms again! Even with his back to him, his body molded so flawlessly to his, almost as if they had been made as two perfect halves of a whole. If he had _his_ way, he would never let him go ever again. He didn't realize just how much he HAD missed Justin until right this second when it all came flooding back to him. It wasn't just the physical feeling of holding him in his arms again, although that was heavenly; rather, he realized how much he had missed his _company_ – his passion, his energy, his ability to cut through all the bullshit to see his true self inside, and his talent at challenging him about everything. No one else had ever been able to do that before, except for maybe his son, and he realized he liked it – a LOT.

Justin, however, was not cooperating with his goal. "Let me go, Brian," Justin protested, as he brought his long-fingered hands up to Brian's arms in an unsuccessful attempt to pry himself free. Justin's heart began to beat furiously against his chest as Brian continued to hold him possessively; it didn't help, either, that he could feel Brian's cock being held willing hostage against his backside. In fact, he could distinctly hear Brian softly chuckle the harder he attempted to break loose. "Are you fucking _deaf?_ I said, let GO of me!" he demanded, louder this time as he continued to struggle futilely. He cursed his own body when he felt his own cock hardening as he recalled his and Brian's night of passion a week ago and he felt the lean, taut body pressing against him. That night, and the next morning's gymnastics, had been mind blowing and utterly incomparable to any other man Justin had been with. _Damn this man_, he swore inwardly. _Even when I can't stand his guts, he STILL makes me fucking CRAZY. _He was not about to let Brian know that, however; he may not have a lot of money to his name, but he still had his PRIDE. He thought he could hear his "Bad Justin" telling him pride didn't make for a very effective bed partner, but he chose to studiously ignore it as he continued to push against the other man in an attempt to dislodge himself. He noticed to his embarrassment that a couple of gray-haired old ladies had stopped in the middle of the aisle nearby to watch their spectacle open-mouthed, no doubt trying to determine if the two of them loved or hated each other. _Let me know when YOU figure it out_,_ Ladies_, Justin thought to himself wryly. _Then you can let ME know. _

Brian was absolutely euphoric as he relished the feel of Justin against him again. He breathed out a warm caress on his captive's neck as he whispered, "Relax, Doughboy, I'm only trying to _talk_ to you. You're a _hard_ man to reach…..at least _out of bed_."

That offhanded comment about their sexual escapades gave Justin the added courage and anger to gain the upper hand on Brian as he unexpectedly jabbed the brunet in his side with his elbow. As a startled Brian momentarily loosened his hold on him, Justin broke free of his embrace and whirled around to face him. "Well, I'm glad at least that I could be _hard_ enough for you in bed," he snarled, his eyes flashing with a combination of hurt and anger. "You can just keep replaying it in your dreams, _Mr. Kinney, _because that's the _only_ fucking way you're going to see me there _again_!" he snapped, as he snatched up his basket of supplies and stomped off toward the checkout counter.

Brian stared after him in stunned shock – shock over how he had once again said entirely the wrong thing and shock over how Justin had roughly escaped from his grasp. _Way to go, Kinney – that went over well_. He huffed out a disgusted breath of self-loathing as he noticed the same two old ladies still staring at him, this time in righteous indignation. He thought briefly of giving them both a one-fingered salute before thinking better of it. Painting a fake smile on his face instead, he bowed slightly and turned around to head back toward the front of the store.

He spied just a brief glimpse of his Doughboy as he hastily exited the store with his purchases before, with a sigh, he found his previously abandoned bottle of expensive wine and once more stood in the same checkout line as before. Although he was temporarily stymied again in his attempt to reason with Justin, he wasn't done by a long shot; he just had to get his foot out of his mouth first. He contemplated his next move as the cashier rang up his purchase. By the time the bottle was tucked into a shopping tote, he had replaced his doubts with a more self-confident expression. He knew exactly what to do next. _You can run but you can't hide, Doughboy_.

_

* * *

_

Cakes of Art Shop – Mid-Afternoon

"Okay, that's it, Emmett…..how long was that for the whole procedure?" Justin took the newly-baked prototype cake out of their industrial oven at the shop and placed it on a wooden plywood platform; by the time he was finished with the actual competition cake, he estimated it would weigh well in excess of 100 pounds and he would, therefore, need his strongest wooden support to adequately hold it. He had decided to use his most popular recipe of a marbled buttercream and fresh strawberry cake for the base tiers before adding the fondant and other decorations for the adventure theme.

Emmett glanced up at the clock. "By my estimate, Baby, it was about two hours tops. Will that give you enough time Wednesday?"

Justin nodded; he was glad that at least this part seemed to be going as planned. "Yeah….we're supposed to have a total of five hours Wednesday to prepare and bake the main part of the cake before we begin decorating it. That should give me plenty of time to get it mixed up and baked, plus begin tinting the fondant and getting it rolled out to put on the cake tiers. You can help me Wednesday by helping me cut up the ingredients going into the cake and getting it mixed up, okay? That will free me up to start preparing the other parts for the characters going on top of the cake."

"Still not going to tell me what you have in mind?" Emmett asked him; since Justin had told him about the theme he had been assigned to, and that he had decided on a new idea, he was dying to know what his friend had come up with.

Justin smiled. "No…..sorry, Em. I don't want to jinx myself. I'm just a little superstitious about my designs – it's like if I don't tell anyone, no one will be able to mess me up or duplicate the same type of idea." He looked over at his friend a little sheepishly. "I know it's silly, but this means a lot to me. If it's okay with you, I'll let you in on it Wednesday after we get there, okay?"

Emmett grinned. "Whatever you say, Sweetie, you're the engineer – I'm just along for the ride…..But I can't wait to see what you've come up with! The party supply store has everything, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Justin agreed. "It sure does," he answered quietly. His smile faltered just a bit at the mention of his trip to Steel City. He had made a concerted effort not to think about his encounter earlier with Brian, but he was finding it hard not to. The man always seemed to find a way to get under his skin; despite the brunet's cocky attitude, there was still a certain vulnerability to him. He had glanced back at Brian as he had walked away from him at the store, and he could swear that he could almost see a hint of pain on his face, as if he had realized what he had done and regretted it. Well, he couldn't afford at the moment to be Brian's psychoanalyst; that would have to come later.

"Justin? Something wrong?" Emmett noticed the slight change in his face at the mention of the party supply store.

Justin shook his head; even with Emmett's support of him, he didn't really want to rehash his and Brian's relationship with his friend again. It was obvious that Emmett thought Brian was just a manipulative user, incapable of anything more. Maybe Emmett was correct; but deep down, Justin wasn't quite ready yet to dismiss him entirely. He just decided he would have to put Brian on the back burner for the time being.

"I'm fine, Em…..Just a lot on my mind, I guess," he finally answered. He rubbed his hands together to try and get the excess flour off them before using his apron to finish the job. "I think you've helped me with about all I need for now," he told his friend. "I'm sure you're as tired as I am. Why don't you head back to your apartment and get some rest – or maybe go out and enjoy yourself for a while? I'm just going to stay here a bit longer and work a little more on my design for the contest."

"Are you sure, Baby?" Em asked him; his friend had been going to school and working so hard lately that he wasn't the _only_ one that needed some sleep. "You look exhausted. Why don't you go home, too? You need to be on your toes for the contest Wednesday."

"I will in a little while," Justin assured, smiling softly in appreciation. "I promise," he added at the skeptical look on his friend's face. "Really. I'm going to take advantage of having this week off from the deli and actually get a little sleep for a change. I'm just going to stay for another hour or so – scout's honor." He crossed his hands over his chest in emphasis.

Em nodded, apparently satisfied that his friend really was going to get some sleep for a change. "Okay," he said, relenting. "I think I'll go rustle up some duds and dance the night away at Babylon," he decided. "I'll see you back here tomorrow," he told his friend, "in case we need to make any last-minute changes before the big day. How's ten o'clock? I may need my beauty sleep if I get lucky tonight," he told his friend impishly, a twinkle in his eyes.

Justin rolled his lips under in amusement. "Actually, the professors are letting me out of classes while the expo's here, but I have school tomorrow until 3:00. Why don't we meet here about 5? We'll need to get all the advertising material for our booth and all the supplies for the cake contest packed into the van. That's going to take a while. Oh, and can you call Nathan and make sure he can man the booth for us during the contest?"

"I sure will, Sweetie," Emmett assured him. "I'll give him a call on my cell phone on the way home." As he started to open the shop's door, he called over his shoulder. "Don't you worry about a thing, my friend. Everything's going to turn out just fine – you'll see." He gave a small wave of his hand before he opened the door and left, leaving Justin surrounded by only the quiet ticking of the clock over the door.

_I hope you're right, Emmett. _ Justin sighed softly before he turned the lock for the door and returned to his work.


	20. Chapter 20: Using Your Best Talents

_Tuesday Afternoon – 5:15 p.m._

The door banged open and the overhead bell swung violently overhead as Justin hurried into his and Emmett's shop like a hurricane-force wind. He had promised Emmett he would meet him here at 5:00, but he had been forced to run all the way from the bus stop a block away when it arrived near the school 25 minutes later than normal. Out of breath, he haphazardly placed his art portfolio down on the floor as he wiped the sweat off his neck.

Lately it seemed like the only speed in his life was _faster and faster_. Thank goodness he wouldn't have to work for the next few days, at least at the deli; something told him this competition might just turn out to be the hardest job he had ever had, though.

"_There_ you are, Baby," Emmett greeted him in relief, rushing in from the back room to give him a kiss on the cheek and a hug. "I was getting _worried_ about you. I know how much this competition means to you, and when you weren't here, I was wondering if something had happened."

"I'm _sorry_, Em," he said, pushing his hair back in restless agitation. "The bus was late picking me up at art school. It figures – the one time I absolutely needed to be back here on time and the driver decides to run late!" He glanced around at the showroom, noticing several boxes sealed with clear tape. "Are these our supplies?" he asked his friend.

Emmett nodded. "Well, it's the advertising material that "_Mr. I'm Good and I KNOW IT" _created for us," he confirmed sarcastically as Justin chuckled softly. "I've got all of that packed up. But I was afraid to tackle your decorating supplies in the back. Since I don't know what design you're going after, I didn't know _where_ to start on those."

Justin nodded. "That's okay – just having all the advertising material packed up already is a big help," he verified, smiling gratefully. "If you can start putting those in the back of the van, I can get started on packing up all the design supplies I'll need. I made a list last night so I wouldn't forget anything. I can just see me get over there and find out I didn't bring something." He rolled his eyes. "That would definitely impress the judges, wouldn't it?" he said ruefully. He huffed out a nervous breath. "My nerves are wound up so tight, I hope I don't get over there and blow it. Have you seen how brutal some of those judges can be on _television_? Some of them are pretty nasty – they can be arrogant little fuckers."

Emmett chuckled. "You mean like _someone else_ we know?"

Justin grimaced, instantly thinking of a certain brunet who had been occupying his thoughts for the past week, despite his fervent attempt to push him out of his mind. "Yeah," he conceded, grinning self-deprecatingly. "You could say that." The two of them shared a knowing smile before Justin gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll be in the back if you need me."

* * *

An hour later, both men had their respective boxes loaded up and packed into the van. All that remained at that point was for them to select which cake samples to bring with them for their booth; while Justin's talents would no doubt highlight his unique designs, when it was all said and done the _taste_ of their food would be what helped to keep them coming back; both men also knew the priceless value of word-of-mouth sales. Up until now, before Brian's tremendously-successful ad campaign, references from former satisfied clients had been their main source of new business. They were both hopeful that with their new advertising materials, combined with the delicious taste of their samples, the result would be a tremendous leap in new business for them.

Justin stood near the rather beat-up, used van, hand on his hip, as he checked off the last of their materials. "Well, I think we've got the cake samples covered. I checked in the refrigerator and we should have enough varieties to feed at least 100 people. We can put them in the van just before we leave tomorrow; by the time we get them set up at the booth, they should be just about the right temperature to be eaten." He turned to peer at his friend. "Are you sure you don't want to include some of your appetizers as samples? I feel like I'm hogging the spotlight here, Em….after all, _you're_ part of this, too. Without you, we wouldn't have the whole wedding package. You can't have a cake without the wedding and reception first," he pointed out.

Emmett smiled at his friend's concern for him; Justin's compassion was part of what made him so special. "No, thanks, Sweetie…..I think I prefer to just take the menus and photo albums with me so the guests can see what they look like; that'll hopefully tempt them to into the shop for a taste. No, this is _your_ time to shine, Baby." He placed the back of one hand against his forehead in a perfect movie star imitation. "Besides, I just had my nails done, remember? You want me to risk getting my cuticles scraped up by cutting up _food_? I'm going to be on _camera,_ _Dahling!_ I don't think so!" He huffed in mock indignation.

Justin snorted in amusement. "Pardon me, _Mr. Honeycutt_," he said politely in a fake Hollywood accent. "I forgot I was in the company of a _star_."

Emmett bumped him playfully. "And don't you _forget it_, Baby!" he growled. He clapped his hands together once as if he were trying to get the attention of his underlings. "I think that's it for tonight, _James,_" he announced royally to his pretend servant. In his own normal tone of voice, he added, "Now if I could just figure out where my limo driver went….."

Justin laughed, grateful for his friend's way of getting him out of his doldrums and easing his nervous energy just a bit. "Well, in case he doesn't return with the limo soon, you think you can drop me off in the company van before you take it home?" The two of them had decided to be all packed up tonight and let Emmett take the van home before picking him up around 9:00 tomorrow morning for the start of their big adventure to the Expo Center; Emmett had volunteered to pick up their samples at the shop beforehand since Justin's apartment was on the way there.

Emmett cocked his head thoughtfully and leaned in closely toward his friend as if he were pondering that possibility. "Well, if he doesn't get back soon, I'll have to _fire_ his ass." He looked down at his imaginary Rolex watch on his wrist. "Looks like he's gone off to find his OWN kind of favorite cake at Babylon again." He sighed melodramatically. "I've told him to stay away from the _beefcake_, but he just won't listen."

Justin curled his lips under and grinned. Shaking his head, he wrapped an arm around his friend's waist. "Well, let's give him the night off and live like the commoners live – do you think you can remember how to drive?"

Emmett's eyes twinkled as he leaned down and planted a brief kiss on Justin's cheek. "Honey, I _never _forget how to DRIVE," he informed him, as the two of them both exited the shop laughing. Tomorrow promised to be a monumental day; tonight, however, at least for one brief moment, their concerns, worries, and heartbreak were blissfully forgotten.

_

* * *

_

Wednesday Morning – Expo Center Downtown

"Brian," Bennett Rodgers greeted his old college chum as he extended his hand to shake the other man's. "What brings you up to my man cave, old friend?"

"Hey….What did I tell you about the _old_ shit?" Brian growled as he shook his friend's hand. "I don't DO old," he stated simply.

Rodgers twisted his mouth in wry amusement. "Of course – my mistake," he agreed amiably. "I'll remember going forward that the only thing that ages well is fine wine. Some other things, like you, for instance, just don't age at _all_." He had to admit – Kinney always looked damned good for someone who had been out of college for several years. He wished HE could say the same thing about _himself_ – the only that had seemed to increase for him after college besides his wealth was his _waistline_.

As he handed his friend a glass of Grey Goose, he motioned for him to take a seat in the dark brown, expensive leather chair opposite his massive, cherry wood desk. He noticed Brian gazing out over the expansive convention center below; the glass walls behind him offered a spectacular view of the exhibit hall on the main floor. "Impressive, isn't it? This office is one of the perks I insisted on when I took this job," he told Brian. "I can see everything going on below without being in the _middle_ of all the chaos." He smiled smoothly. "If something needs attending, I just send the security people down there and watch from up here to make sure they take care of it." He winked slyly. "Sure beats having to get down and dirty with the exhibit people."

Brian pasted a patronizing smile on his face; he found his friend to be just a little too condescending, slick and smug for _his_ taste. Back in college, the man had always been one to stay out of the fracas and take advantage of others' weaknesses. Brian preferred, instead, to take a chance and make his _own_, unique pathway in life; he didn't wait around for others to stumble before he plodded ahead and succeeded based on others' shortcomings. But if kissing this man's ass, at least _figuratively speaking_, would get him – or WHOM – he wanted, he would do whatever it took for the time being.

"Yeah," he agreed, peering out over the bustling activity below. "You've got quite an arrangement up here. Control all the operations of the place without getting your hands dirty."

Rodgers smiled. "Exactly. I think I've got the best of _both_ worlds," he said, winking as he took a sip of his booze. "Now…what can I do for you, Mr. Advertising Genius?"

Brian forced himself not to roll his eyes while he feigned interest as his old college acquaintance rambled on in a monotonous, boring drone. He was only putting up with the man because he was a means to an end. "I just like to visit my clients on occasion so I can be on top of what their current advertising needs are," he answered smoothly. "It helps me stay at the top of my game."

"Ah….I like your initiative, Kinney. What would you like to see?"

_I'd like to see one of your exhibitors up close and personal_, came instantly to Brian's mind, _VERY, VERY PERSONAL_.He bit back what he would have _liked_ to say, however, before he replied, "Well, if I can tear you away from your _protective cocoon_ up here, I'd like you to take me down on the floor so I can observe some of the preparations for your current exhibition." Brian had purposely chosen his visiting time well; he knew exactly when the exhibitors and especially the cake designers were allowed to start setting up, and he wanted to make sure he was here before a certain blond arrived.

Rodgers set his glass down on a coaster and nodded as he stood up. "Sounds like a good idea. Anything that you can use to my advantage to increase my profits is okay in _my_ book. Let's go," he suggested, motioning with his hand for Brian to take the lead. As Brian stood up and walked over to the door, his mind was whirling with the details of his plan.

_Part One – check._

* * *

As the two men rode down in the clear Plexiglas elevator, Brian could see several workers setting up the individual display booths where the exhibitors would be ensconced; he made a mental note to secure a copy of the vendors map near the front of the entrance doors so he could figure out where his _Doughboy's_ booth would be. He was glad, however, that Justin would be competing in the cake design contest, because he knew he would be able to readily spot him on the stage while he was creating his design and know his whereabouts during that time. Of course, when it came down to it, he believed he would be able to spot that adorable blond spitfire _anywhere_; there was just such an incredible aura about him that he seemed to outshine everyone else around him. He knew, though, that despite his Doughboy's incredible talent and creativity, as well as his charisma and charm, in the cutthroat competition that would occur here it might take more than that to propel him into the winning spot. That was where _his_ input came in; Brian would be utilizing his _talents_ just as must as his favorite blond dynamo would be doing to insure that he got the desired results.

"There's a lot of activity going on," he observed as they emerged from the elevator, peering out over all the frantic staging occurring throughout the exhibit hall; he had to speak a little loudly to be heard over the sounds of chainsaws and hammers being used in preparation for installing the temporary booths for each vendor. Rolled up canvases were scattered around the vast floor, waiting to be installed as promotional overhangs for each unit, and several workers were carrying everything from hard plastic storage crates to wooden 2 x 4's to be used in construction for literature holders.

"Yeah," Rodgers practically shouted over the din. "There's always the big push just before all the excitement starts."

Brian snorted to himself. _Don't you KNOW it, Rodgers_, thinking of a _different_ kind of exciting _big push, _one that he hoped to be enjoying again soon with a certain blond. "Really," he said aloud, trying hard to sound interested in what the other man had to say but unsuccessfully achieving it. He was much too interested in observing the distinguished-looking, somewhat austere group of four suits currently striding through the double entrance doors nearby. Each of the two men and two women wore a gold-colored badge that said _Culinary __Channel Judge_ on their lapels and carried a burgundy-colored, leather clipboard. Brian eyed the quartet intently, sizing each one up as he made a determination as to which one would be his willing prey for the day. "I take it those are the four judges for the cake designing contest?" he asked his friend, nodding his head toward them as they slowly approached from the other side of the turnstiles.

Rodgers followed his line of sight, confirming, "Yeah, that's them. Bigwigs from the cooking and cake design world. I take it you don't follow the cable cooking channels?"

Brian harrumphed. "Not fucking likely," he retorted. "Cooking is not one of my life's passions. The only interest I have in food is when I get it from the Thai restaurant down the street and they forget to include the condiments. In fact, I don't think I've turned my oven or stove on since I bought my loft several years ago. I'm strictly a microwave and coffeemaker kind of cook."

He watched closely as the group of four walked toward them. "How about introducing me to the judges?" Brian asked his old friend, nudging his shoulder slightly to get his attention as he critically sized them up. He noticed Rodgers giving him an odd sort of look, as if he were wondering why he would want to meet them, before he shrugged his shoulders slightly; for someone who wasn't apparently interested in cooking, it probably seemed like an unusual request to him. Fortunately, though, his friend didn't seem to care to ask him the specific reason why. "Sure thing – why not?" he said. "I have to show them where to set up anyway."

"Sylvia – so good to see you again," Rodgers proceeded to schmooze the first judge he encountered as she walked up to him. Brian noted the middle-aged woman's dark, slightly-graying hair in a bun, her steely eyes, and tightly-pursed lips and immediately thought of the stereotypical schoolmarm of old; no warmth was showing beneath _that_ dour countenance.

"Mr. Rodgers," she coolly responded. "I trust all the arrangements for the production are in order?" She peered up at him through her wire-rimmed glasses in a perfect imitation of someone discovering the bad boy in school had once again misbehaved and was about to be sent out to the wood shed for discipline.

Brian had to stifle a smile at the almost fearful look that appeared on the promoter's face as he replied quickly, "Yes, of course, Sylvia. Everything is ready for you." She nodded primly as she glanced over briefly at Brian. "May I present a friend of mine, Brian Kinney? Brian, this is Sylvia Cooper, the owner of Sylvia's Sensations, the premier cake design firm in Los Angeles."

Brian smiled his most professional smile, but he didn't even bother to try and charm _this_ woman; he suspected she wouldn't know charm if it bit her in her well-padded, fucking _ass_. "Ms. Cooper," he said politely, shaking her cold-feeling hand briefly before releasing it. Somehow he didn't think the old saying of _cold hand; warm heart_ went hand in hand with THIS judge, and he wondered how someone that looked like her could have a single creative bone in her body that would enable her to design cakes. He decided she must simply run the operation and leave the actual creativity up to her underlings – it had to be the only possible explanation for her participation here.

"Mr. Kinney," she responded, placing her hands on her hips in a defensive stance of isolation as she waited for her fellow judges to catch up with her. _Don't worry your little bunned head, lady – I wouldn't come near you if you were the last survivor of nuclear WAR._

The next judge, the second woman in the panel, was a younger, dark-haired petite woman who appeared to be of Hispanic descent. "Mr. Rodgers," she said, smiling politely. "Good to see you again," she said professionally.

"You too, Maria," Rodgers greeted her, nodding as he shook her small hand. Maria, may I present Brian Kinney, a former fraternity brother of mine from college? Brian, this is Maria Sanchez, editor of _Cake Designs Magazine," _he explained to her.

"Ms. Sanchez," Brian answered, taking her hand as well. He noted that at least this woman, unlike her predecessor, had a warm hand and at least knew how to crack a smile. "Nice to meet you." Again, Brian noted no significant vibes from this person, either, as he observed the gold wedding ring worn on her left hand.

"Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Kinney," she responded amiably enough before breaking their handshake. "If you two will please excuse me, I need to confer with Sylvia about the timeline today." She nodded at both men before walking over to a nearby table her colleague was standing next to and they began to study the several pages of documents attached to their clipboards.

_Two down, two to go_. Brian studied the two remaining judges that stood nearby; both men, the first one was tall, thin, with a goatee and narrow, piercing slate-blue eyes. The man had a definite, no-nonsense look about him while he studied Brian up and down as if he were a commodity of some type. Although he was being subjected to a thorough analysis, Brian's gaydar failed to register. The man appeared to be more of a curious blueblood than a man attracted to him, which was fortuitous since Brian didn't find the man the least bit attractive, either. The man seemed to exude an overabundance of self-importance as he spoke in a clipped British accent, "Mr. Rodgers…..I'm glad you're here on the floor to greet us. We need to set up immediately; there's only an hour before the doors open and we were unexpectedly detained at some hole-in-a-wall they call an _airport_ here."

"Of course," Rodgers quickly mollified him. "I will make sure all your needs are met sufficiently. If you will join your colleagues over there, I'll be with you shortly." Brian noticed his college chum didn't even introduce him this time; it was just as well anyway, because Brian didn't see any glimmer of optimism in the snooty man. As the man walked out of earshot, Rodgers leaned over and whispered, "He's the president of _Epicurean Elegance_, the most watched cooking show on the Culinary Channel. Doesn't know shit about cake design or decorating – he was just thrown in as a concession to keep the sponsor bigwigs happy."

Brian nodded, thinking that certainly fit his impression, as the man joined the pair of women; the man was about as exciting as a girls' ballet recital. That meant he had one last hope – the other male in the group who was left standing a few feet away from him. Unlike the three other judges, _this_ man was dressed tastefully as well, but more in a contemporary fashion. He was wearing a navy-blue, button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone and a pair of tan corduroy dress pants accompanied with dark brown loafers. The man was attractive enough, about Brian's height with light brown hair and green eyes. He normally wouldn't be Brian's type – after he had experienced the heights of pleasure with his golden Doughboy, everyone else pretty much paled in comparison _now_, both figuratively as well as literally– but as the man cast a definite look of barely-disguised lust in his direction, Brian decided this man was nonethless perfect for the job he had in mind; yes, he would meet _his needs_ perfectly. "Dylan," Rodgers acknowledged the other man, who continued to glance over at his companion instead. "I'd like you to meet my friend, Brian Kinney. Brian, this is Dylan Howell, the editor of _Piece of Cake_ magazine."

_Piece of Cake indeed. _Brian's gaydar rang loud and clear as a bell in his head as the other man took his hand and held it much longer than the normal handshake would require. _Ding, ding, ding!_ "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kinney," Howell told him, smiling. Brian did not miss the quick study Howell made of his entire body as his eyes raked quickly from his head down to his feet before he somewhat reluctantly released the brunet's hand.

Brian pasted on his most sexy smile. "The pleasure is _mine_, Mr. Howell," he responded in a low, melodious tone of voice. "But please – call me _Brian_."

Howell's face actually flushed a slight pink as he reacted to Brian's predatory leer. He smiled almost shyly as he nodded. "Brian," he responded softly, acquiescing to the brunet's request readily. "Are you interested in cake design?" he asked him, trying to make polite conservation with this elegant, sleek and sexy man.

"Not especially," Brian truthfully answered, staring back at him intensely, which caused the other man to blush and even deeper shade of pink. _I AM interested in a certain cake DESIGNER, however_.

He thought to himself, _much __too easy_, as the man continued to stare back at him in unabashed interest. "But I AM into advertising and what makes things tick. I don't' think I've ever met a judge for such a prestigious contest as THIS one. What makes _YOU _tick?" he asked in a husky sort of drawl as a pair of hazel eyes practically bored into the green ones gazing back at him wide-eyed now. "I mean…..what makes this contest so interesting to you?" he asked, trying to pretend he really cared. Right now the only this he cared about was helping to insure that a certain someone had a good chance at winning this competition.

The man practically stammered as he responded awkardly, "Uh….I manage the publication of _Piece of Cake_ magazine," he explained, continuing to stare into the beautifully-angular, chiseled face of the man practically dripping sex in front of him. "The Culinary Channel – the sponsors of this event – asked me to participate."

"Mr. Rodgers? If you don't mind?" The two men's conversation was interrupted by Sylvia Cooper's rather icy voice permeating through their discussion as she addressed the Expo's director. "We are pressed for time here," she sternly reminded him. "Would you kindly show us where the Grand Auditorium is now?" Her question was phrased politely, but she failed to keep the impatient, icy tone from emerging in her voice.

Rodgers' face reflected his annoyance with this sour-looking woman just for a few seconds as he and Brian exchanged a knowing look before he turned around to face her and professionally pasted on his official-looking game face to reply smoothly, "Of _course_, Sylvia. If you and the others would come with me?" He began to walk away from Brian and the fourth judge to lead the panel to the area where they would be observing and ultimately judging the cake designs as Brian mentally scrambled for a way to keep this one judge in his company for a while longer.

He watched with frustration as his best shot at influencing their decision began to walk away from him. Just as he was about to be left behind, however, he was spared the need for a scheme when Howell briefly grabbed Rodger's sleeve to stop him and said, "Uh…..I'd like to grab a cup of coffee and I need to visit the men's room. Can you tell me where they are? I'll just catch up with you in a few minutes." Brian hid the satisfied smile from appearing on his face as the man turned to look at HIM instead of Rodgers, his intention all too obvious in that small, seemingly innocent action.

Always adept at taking advantage of any opportunity, Brian leaped into the conversation before Rodgers could say so much as a syllable. "Uh, Bennett?" he said nonchalantly. "I know where they are. I'll be glad to show Mr. Howell the way and then lead him over to the Grand Auditorium. In the meantime, you can go ahead and show the other judges where to set up if you want."

He almost wanted to kiss Sylvia Cooper's hand, or ass, or something (even though he found the thought profoundly distasteful) for her perchant at being persistently cold and impatient as he saw Rodgers' expression of gratitude flicker across his face at Brian as he smiled.

"That'd be great, Brian," he told his friend, nodding. He held out his hand to the other judges. "If you'll follow me, then, I'll show the rest of you where to get started," he told them. As the group of four walked away, Brian was left alone with his willing _participant_. He smiled almost wickedly as he said, "Now….let me show you where to go," he practically purred as he took the man's elbow and started to steer him toward his own version of a spider web.

_Part Two – Check._

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, a flushed, sweaty Dylan Howell emerged from the men's restroom, hastily straightening his shirt collar and his now re-belted pants as he stood there somewhat out of breath, looking around for the hallway Brian had told him about after they two of them had fucked almost violently in one of the stalls. He let out an open-mouthed breath of shaky air as he strove to control his rapid heartbeat. For what he had just experienced, he was more than happy to accommodate the dangerously-sexy man; it seemed like a small price to pay in exchange for the mind-blowing sex he had just experienced; although, he had been hugely disappointed to discover the man was simply engaging in their incredible escapade strictly for the sake of securing his favor during the upcoming design competition. He knew, also, that his voice was only one vote out of a total of four and it wouldn't unduly influence the others' majority vote anyway. _What a pity it was only for the one time_, he lamented, as he slowly began to walk somewhat painfully toward the far side of the room to access the hallway to the Grand Auditorium. _That man must be something else_, he thought, thinking about what this Justin Taylor would be like and where the man's talents REALLY lay.

A minute later, Brian smugly emerged from the restroom, his suit neatly draped perfectly across his lean body and his hair coiffed expertly in place. Smiling to himself, he confidently turned in the opposite direction toward the entrance doors, noting the clock overhead indicated it was 9:30; just enough time to get a copy of the vendors' directory before a certain someone arrived.

_Part Three – Check._


	21. Chapter 21: Getting Ready to Compete

_**A/N: Sorry about the delay in getting this posted - I just started a new job and it's really eating into my time, unfortunately. Not to worry - I WILL get this and the other story finished - it will take a little longer, though. Hope you will bear with me in the meantime. Thank you as always for those who are reading and especially reviewing!**_

* * *

_9:45 a.m. – Expo Center Downtown_

As he and Emmett walked through the doors of the exhibition center and were provided with official name badges, Justin felt like a kid in a candy store. Just knowing that their business was about to be exposed to thousands of potential clients was enough to make his heart beat rapidly and his face to feel warm and flushed with nervous anticipation. He tried not to even think about the cake competition later, even though he and Emmett were wheeling two large overstuffed plastic crates of supplies behind them to be used in their booth and his subsequent creation. If he dwelled on the thought of everyone staring at him down on the stage during his cake designing and then about the literally _millions_ of television viewers watching at home, he knew he would literally get sick to his stomach.

He decided, then, to just concentrate on getting through the morning's exhibition. Hopefully by the time they were set up properly and he could devote his attention to some face-to-face encounters with the Expo's visitors, it would help take his mind off what was to come later.

"Do you _believe_ this, Baby?" Emmett marveled, clapping in glee. "You and me – in the _big _time!" He looked around at all the hustle and bustle occurring nearby as Justin studied the map he had been given; from what Justin could tell, their booth was located about two aisles over, near the end.

"Yeah, I know," Justin agreed. "This IS kind of _surreal_, isn't it? Who would have thought a month ago that we would be _here?_" He shuddered a little at the thought – it was one thing to present a cake at someone's party and gauge their reaction; it was another thing altogether to be judged in front of internationally-known critics, a studio audience, and millions of other people.

Emmett reached over and briefly rubbed his hands up and down Justin's shoulders briskly in support. "You're going to do just _great, _Justin," he encouraged him. "Not to mention we'll undoubtedly be the most fashionably-dressed team there!"

Justin smiled as he glanced over at his friend's attire; in addition to the manicure, his friend had also placed smoky gray eyeliner around his eyes to emphasize them. "Well, I can't argue with _that_," Justin agreed, sweeping his eyes over his friend's outfit. "Although I kind of hate to hide all that that fashion under our apron and cap," he cracked, nudging his friend in the side.

Emmett shrugged. "Ah, the price of fame," he lamented slightly before he brightened. "I do hate for all this primping to go to waste. But no problem, Baby – I'll get my mug on camera as much as possible, along with some tush shots, don't you worry." Justin laughed softly as he watched his friend reach into his pocket and pull out a small, rectangular-sized mirror to take a quick glance at his face. "A celebrity must be dewy-fresh at _all _times, Baby," he chided his friend. "Can you point me to our fan booth?"

Justin smirked. "It's this way, _Mr. Big Shot,_" he teased, pointing over to the second aisle over. "Wagons ho!" he cracked, as the two of them began to tug their wheeled carts toward their booth.

As the two men continued to cart their plastic crates over to their assigned space, their movements were being closely monitored by another man who was hidden by a large, artificial tree in the corner. Brian jumped visibly, though, as he heard a rather stern female voice nearby saying unexpectedly, "What are you _doing?" _

He whirled around to find Lindsey standing there with Gus, who was firmly holding his Dimetrodon in his left hand. "Daddy!" he chirped, raising his dinosaur-laden hand in greeting.

Despite coming close to suffering a heart attack in surprise, Brian had to smile at his son's cheery greeting. "Hey there, Sonny Boy!" he greeted his son casually, even though he had been caught obviously peering around a fake tree. "What brings YOU here?" He reached down and scooped his son up into his arms to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"We're here to see Jus'n," he told his father happily. "Have you seen him, Daddy? He's going to be on TV," the little boy reported helpfully, beginning to crane his neck from side to side as he tried to take advantage of his relatively high vantage point to spot his friend.

Brian frowned as he looked over at Lindsey; he hadn't told her about that. "How did you find out?" he asked his friend curiously. He wasn't sure he was happy with this turn of events; despite being delighted to see his son, he had a feeling this latest development could very well put a crimp in his plans with a certain blond later.

"You mean about Justin being in the cake competition?" she asked. She reached into her purse and pulled out a rolled up piece of newspaper. "It was in the paper yesterday afternoon," she explained, handing him the copy she had been carrying.

Brian unrolled the piece of paper and scanned it – it was a part of the _Leisure_ section from the Pittsburgh Herald and contained a rather large headline announcing that a local cake designer was going to be participating in the _Wedding Cake Wars_ being broadcast from the Expo. It listed Justin's name, along with the other ten competitors, in addition to a rather detailed description of his and Emmett's business, including the address, phone number and website address. Brian smirked. "You can't _buy_ this type of publicity," he stated firmly. "This type of advertising would cost a fucking _fortune_."

"Well, if anyone would know, it would be you," Lindsey told him. "I'm _happy _for him and Em – it is well-deserved. I'm so excited for them!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "I've never seen a cake designing competition in person, but I've seen them lots of times of TV. I think they're fascinating! I hope Justin wins!"

Brian snorted. "Yeah – it figures you artistic types would find that sort of high-carb drivel mesmerizing."

"Yeah…..Jus'n!" Gus joined in as he clapped. "Let's go see 'im, Daddy!" he cried, tugging on his father's shirt collar. "Don't you want to say hi to him?" he asked, his brown eyes wide with typical childlike innocence. "I want to see him….maybe he'll give me some more _cake!" _

Brian sighed; he always found it so hard to refuse his little boy, but his son had no idea what type of complications might ensue if a certain man knew he was here at the moment and keeping tabs on him. He had intended to remain in the background to observe how Justin was doing; he had already become _involved_ earlier anyway, in a _couple_ of ways. He would prefer that Justin not know about any of this at the moment. "I'm sorry, Sonny Boy," he said gently. "Daddy's here on business – I won't have time to go see Justin today," he told him apologetically as he softly lowered his son to the ground.

Lindsey reached over to take her son's hand. "What _type_ of business, _Daddy_?" she asked her friend innocently, twisting her lips in amusement; something told her Brian was here for the same reason that she and _Gus_ were – to see a certain blond cake designer, even though he was denying it. She knew that despite his ridiculous statement to the contrary at the diner, her friend had more than just a one-time, prurient interest in the young artist. The tender, caring looks her friend had been giving Justin was more telling than any arrogant, unfeeling statement he might have _verbally_ expressed in a weak attempt to push them off the right track.

"_Advertising_ business with the expo promoter," he told her curtly, raising his eyebrow in challenge to his statement. It seemed perfectly reasonable to _him_, anyway, even if he had an idea that Lindsey wasn't buying it for a second. "He's an old fraternity brother; in fact, you probably remember him - Bennett Rodgers?"

Lindsey shook her head disgustedly as she rolled her eyes. "Bennett Rodgers…now _that_'_s_ a name I haven't heard in quite a while. Is he still the same S.O.B. he _always _used to be?" The man had always latched himself onto anyone who he thought he could take advantage of, and never cared about whether he hurt anyone else in the process or not; she had intensely disliked the man in college from the moment she had first met him, and something told her she would feel the same way about him NOW.

Brian smirked as his son gazed up at him to ask, "Daddy, what's an S.O.B.?"

"It's a man who thinks he's more talented than he really is, Sonny Boy," he replied dryly. "And to answer your mommy's question, _yes_ – even _more so_. Just because he IS, though, doesn't mean I can't do business with him. In fact, he's one of my biggest advertising clients here in Pittsburgh. That kind of business tends to make me _overlook _personality faults."

"Uh, huh," Lindsey answered, not amused. And as far as the excuse Brian was giving her about being here, frankly, she didn't believe it for a minute. She knew _exactly_ why Brian was here and chances are it didn't have a damn thing to do with their old college chum. But if Brian wanted to play it that way to save face, so be it.

Brian _knew_ that look – it was one that said, _I'm on to you, Kinney_. He had to nip _that_ thought in the bud right now. "Uh, Lindsey…..don't go telling Justin that I'm here, okay? I wouldn't want to get his hopes up or something. I'm just here on business."

"Right," she answered, obviously unconvinced by his attempt to sound nonchalant and indifferent about the whole matter. "Well, then, I'll let you know how the competition turns out," she answered, taking their son's hand. _You're not fooling me for a second, Buster. _"You ready to go visit Justin's booth?"

"Yeah!" Gus quickly answered, as he began to tug excitedly on his mother's hand. "We'll give him a kiss for you, Daddy," he helpfully offered as the two of them began to walk away toward the display booths.

"Yeah," Brian answered softly, out of earshot. "You do that, Sonny Boy." _I'll be sure to give him a kiss for you TOO…a really GOOD one…later. _He picked up his map once again and, studying the legend of vendors' names, slowly meandered toward the perimeter of the main aisles; better to take the long way around for _THIS_ journey.

_

* * *

_

One Hour Later

"How's this, Justin?" Nathan asked, his hands on his hips as he stood next to the blond, who was studying the display about 10 feet away. There were three tables set up at their booth, with the table at the rear displaying small versions of some of Justin's best wedding cake designs, along with a large, thick photo album of several additional designs. Each design had a code number that a potential client could include on name, address, and phone number slips supplied to them for further information. A large, clear Plexiglas box with a slot in the top would hold the completed forms; Justin had decided that one lucky form would be supplied with a free wedding cake as a grand prize. He figured that the publicity and good will generated from the prize would more than compensate for the cost and time that would be involved in preparing it.

The other two tables displayed some of Emmett's appetizer ideas and party planning information. All in all, the design was very organized, creative and professional looking, just what Justin had been hoping to achieve. "I think it looks great," he said, smiling at Nathan. "I really appreciate your help getting it set up. Once Emmett saw that old friend of his, he was off like a shot to talk to him." About 30 minutes ago, just before Lindsey had stopped by with Gus to wish him luck, Emmett had unexpectedly spotted an old roommate of his that he hadn't seen in a few years, and had begged off working temporarily to go track him down. Fortunately, their high school assistant, Nathan, had arrived at just about the same time to help Justin finish setting up. "Now all we have to do is get enough people interested in stopping by and hopefully visiting our shop to order something."

"Well, my sister came here last year just before she got married, and she said the place was absolutely _packed_ with people," Nathan told him. "I think you'll be _more_ than busy."

Justin glanced over at the redheaded student. "I hope you're right," he told him. It was still relatively early for the show's start, and so far there wasn't a vast amount of people attending yet. "If there _is_, I think this will be a good opportunity for us."

Nathan smiled. "Well, that and you being in the cake competition. I think that's _fantastic!_ I hope you win, Justin."

Justin grinned appreciatively. "Thanks, Nathan. I'm not getting my hopes up _too_ much – I imagine these other competitors have been in the business a lot longer than I have. It would be great to win – don't get me wrong – but either way I think it'll be an interesting experience. Just to be included out of all those applicants is a great honor." He frowned. "Actually, I really don't know _how_ I wound up being a contestant – I never applied directly. The only thing I can think of is that someone liked my work and sent in some examples for them to see." A flash of purple caught his eye as he saw Emmett rushing over to their booth. "Well, there's our missing man now." He noticed his friend animatedly pulling an uknown man toward them.

Nathan followed his line of sight to observe Emmett returning with a stranger. "Well, if it's all right with you, I'm going to take a short break and get me something to drink, okay?"

"Sure thing…I'll man the ship while you're gone," Justin replied, smiling, as the high school boy left to find a refreshment stand. Besides, from the look of excitement on Emmett's face, it was obvous his friend was dying to introduce him to his former roommate.

"Justin! I want you to meet Collin. Wait until you hear what he has to tell you!" Emmett came rushing up, looking like someone who had run a quarter mile; he was sweating and breathless as he pulled his old friend alongside him. "Collin, this is my business partner, and friend, Justin Taylor – he's the one competing in the cake design contest. Justin, this is my old roommate, Collin Montgomery."

Justin briefly sized up the rather tall, dark-blond haired man standing in front of him; he appeared to have the same bemused on his face that HE did at Emmett's excited demeanor. "It's nice to meet you, Collin," he said, smiling and extending his hand.

As the other man clasped his hand in return, Emmett advised Justin, "You're not going to _believe_ this! Collin works as a production assistant to one of the producers of the Culinary Channel," he explained.

Justin nodded politely, thinking it _was_ truly a small world; Emmett's friend no doubt had an interesting job, but he wouldn't exactly consider that extremely _exciting_ or earth shattering. "It must be interesting, living in New York City," he offered. "I always thought that I'd like to live there to pursue my art."

Emmett looked at him, confused, before he had a sudden epiphany, realizing why Justin wasn't so astounded by his news; he hadn't told his friend the _good _part yet. "No, Baby, that's not what I mean," he said, correctly deducing that Justin didn't understand he hadn't told him the most exciting part yet. "It's not his JOB that's so exciting – sorry, Collin," he told his friend, who nodded congenially. "It's what he _told_ me about one of the judges in the cake competition. Collin told me one of the four judges has been _disqualified_."

Justin's eyebrows rose at that piece of news. "Disqualified? Whatever for?" _How does a cake designer judge get himself disqualified? _"Did the person's soufflé collapse or something?" he kidded his friend. Before Emmett could answer, however, his former roommate volunteered the reason. "I wish it were that minor," Collin told him. "HE got disqualified for fucking someone in the bathroom this morning."

Justin stifled a laugh. "You're kidding me, right?"

Justin's look of amusement was contagious as Emmett's former roommate smiled back at him as he shook his head. "No….that's the rumor, anyway. Seems someone _else_ was in the men's room at the same time, unbeknownst to the judge, and overheard enough of it to know the judge was being prompted to vote for one of the contestants in return for _services rendered_." He snickered. "That's a first for _this_ show; normally it's a case of someone being offered money under the table, not his dick."

"Shit!" Justin exclaimed as he placed his hand over his mouth in surprise. "Do they know _which_ contestant?" As if he wasn't nervous enough at the moment, _this_ particular part of the contest was definitely making things more interesting.

Collin shook his head. "No, apparently the person in the men's room got there _after _the "festivities" started, so to speak," he reported. "All he could hear – in between all the _moaning_, that is –was the judge being "encouraged" to vote for someone. The judge apparently is being tight-lipped about the whole thing – pardon the pun," Collin added, receiving a snicker from his two avid listeners. "I don't think he feels this would add to his credibility, obviously, so apparently he quietly slinked off back to his home base of Chicago with his proverbial tail between his legs. So the only alternative the producers had was to disqualify him altogether. Fortunately they had a backup judge in the wings in case one of the others got sick or had their flight delayed. The guy just arrived here about 30 minutes ago, so they'll still have four judges, thank goodness."

Justin shook his head in disbelief; could this whole event get any _weirder? _"Unbelievable," he murmured.

"Yeah…..I'm sure they never imagined _THIS_ type of scenario, Collin told them softly. "I don't think it would reflect real well on the Culinary Channel if word got out about this, by the way, so I hope you'll keep this under your hat – or chef's beret, in either case," he said, laughing softly. "Em showed me the outfit you're going to wear," he told Justin. "Very chic," he teased them.

Justin shook his in amusement. "Well, it has to be one of the male competitors, obviously," he observed. "How many men are competing?"

"Believe or not, out of the eleven competitors, seven of them are male," Collin told the two business partners. "Typically most people think of women being the chief operators of cake designing businesses, but normally they're not. It seems the most artistic people who design cakes tend to be men for some reason. In _this_ case, the judge swears the person he was – uh, _interacting with_ – was acting alone and that the contestant didn't have any knowledge of it. In _any _case, the only fair action was to disqualify him completely so he didn't somehow sway the other judges." Collin glanced over at Justin; the man seemed awfully young to be competing in such a prestigious contest. "You ever competed in one of these before?" he asked pointedly.

Justin flushed under the intense scrutiny before he answered somewhat hesitantly, "Uh…..no, actually, this is my first time. In fact, I was kind of shocked when I got picked – I have no _idea_ how they got my name – it must have been somebody who bought a cake from me and thought it was pretty good."

"Pretty _good?"_ Emmett exclaimed, giving his partner a small slap on his hand. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Baby. You'll be the most adorable, as well as creative,designer there - hands down," he told his friend effusively.

Justin blushed at his friend's exuberant confidence in him; he only wished he was as confident as _Emmett_ was. "Thanks, Em," he said a little bashfully. "But I'm sure they'll be others just as good."

Collins smirked at his friend's confidence in the young artist. "Well, the only reason why I asked is because you should know – this can be a pretty cutthroat business. Just watch your back – figuratively as _well_ as literally." Justin glanced at him, unsure whether the man was kidding or not – he certainly _looked _serious enough. "Well, I'd better get back before my boss comes looking for me – remember, the two of you need to be over at the Grand Auditorium in time for the competition to start at noon. I'd recommend about a half-hour earlier, just to get oriented to the place and get all your supplies over there. Good luck, guys!" he called out, as he hurried to return to the sponsor's special booth at the front of the large room.

Justin watched Emmett's friend depart with mixed feelings. He was happy that Emmett could become reacquainted with his friend, but the man's caution about the other contestants, as well as the judge who had been disqualified, made him a little disconcerted. Whoever this man was who was trying to bribe the judge must have been desperate to see his contestant win. He couldn't imagine being that unsure of yourself that you would permit a friend of yours to fuck the judge! _Well, I guess ten thousand dollars might have that effect on you. _"Em, do you think he was kidding about this being a _cutthroat _business? I mean, it's just cakes, for fuck's sake! Surely he was just joking around."

He wasn't very comforted by his friend's reaction; for a change, Emmett actually looked sober. "I don't know, Baby. I've seen how some of Pittsburgh's caterers can be when I run into them at events. If the cake designers are anything like event planners, God help us. But don't worry, Baby, I've got your back," he vowed, smiling. "Besides, one flash of that smile and you'll blind them anyway," he joked, giving Justin an affectionate little bump to the side.

Justin huffed out an amused smile, despite his trepidation. Glancing over at a large clock displayed over one of the entrance archways, he noted with some urgency that it was 11:20. "I hope Nate's on his way back," he told his friend. "We've got to get going. By the way, I moved all of the cake decorating supplies into one crate to make transporting them easier." He was starting to get concerned that they would be running late if their assistant didn't get back soon. "Would you mind if I went ahead and took my supplies over to the auditorium? You can join me as soon as Nate gets back."

Emmett nodded, smiling. "Sure, Sweetie – it's more important that you get set up first." From his taller vantage point, Em could spy Nate returning with a drink and a hot dog. "I can see him, actually; he's on his way back. You go ahead and I'll be over soon."

Justin nodded as he walked over to grab the handle of the now fully-loaded crate; pulling it slowly as he threaded it through the rapidly-increasing mob of visitors, he was finding to his frustration that it was taking considerably longer to get across the hall to the exit door leading to the competition arena than he had anticipated. Just as he was about to effectively achieve his escape, he tripped on an electrical cord taped across the floor. "Shit!" he cried out; as he began to fall, he felt a pair of strong, warm arms latch themselves firmly onto his waist and haul him up against an oh-so-instantly-familiar body. As Justin slowly raised his eyes to gaze at his rescuer, he came face-to-face with the man who had been uppermost on his mind for the past week: Brian Kinney, complete with hazel eyes that were practically boring into his and that ever-present, confident smirk that Justin found both exasperating and alluring.

"Brian!" he exclaimed, half in surprise and half in irritation. "What the hell are YOU doing here?" He tried to push away from the almost vise-like grip the man held him in, but he found he was unsuccessful; the other man was definitely not letting him go just yet.

"Why, _hello_, Doughboy – what's cooking?" he drawled sexily, snickering at the other man's discomfiture. As he stared down into the sapphire eyes of his captive struggling half-heartedly in his arms for freedom, at least that was how it _appeared _to HIM, he both cursed and blessed his good fortune. Cursed because he had promised himself that he would remain safely hidden away from this man's curious, penetrating scrutiny, but also blessed because his feisty prey was struggling deliciously in his arms; Brian was chagrined to find that just holding this man in his arms was getting him hard and horny as hell. He was going to do his best, however, NOT to let the man know it, although his rapidly hardening cock was doing its best to betray him.

Justin continued to struggle in an attempt to be released from his exquisite tormentor; _damn this man_. He was at once both the most exasperating and attractive man Justin had ever met. Even after the hurt and pain Brian had caused him, the sexy ad exec could still cause his heartbeat to race and his face to heat up in embarrassment. _Have you no PRIDE, Taylor?_ he berated himself internally. _What happened to your fucking dignity? It went right down the crapper, THAT'S where_, he answered himself testily. "Let me go, Brian," he whispered urgently; even to his own ears, his voice came off as pleading rather than stern. He didn't add the word _please, _but he might as WELL have; both of them could hear him broadcasting it, loud and clear.

Brian's response was to simply wind his arms around the other man even tighter; right now, despite the rapidly-expanding crowd surrounding them, he was oblivious to every other person in the room except for this adorable, blond spitfire currently living up to his name as he continued to try and extricate himself from his predicament.

"Brian, I said _let me GO_!" Justin repeated, a little more loudly and adamantly this time. "I have to get over to the auditorium," he explained to his captor, his hands now frantically trying to pry himself out of Brian's muscular, strong arms – arms that could both keep him held imprisoned but also fuck him senseless and take him to the heights of glorious pleasure with their sensual, lightly probing touch. _Damn it, Taylor! Get a grip on where you are_.

"Why?" he heard Brian ask innocently. "Are you _performing _on stage, Doughboy?" he quipped, his eyebrows raising in feigned interest. Brian, of course, knew _exactly_ where he had been heading; he had hoped to remain anonymously in the background while Justin performed his artistic _magic_, but when he saw his little _Doughboy_ about to practically break his neck on the way there, he couldn't help himself. Of course, having the added pleasure of having the man in his arms again was an added bonus. Besides, he really _did_ have a plausible reason for being at the Expo Center – it just wasn't the ENTIRE reason.

Justin continued to try and gain release from his sensory prison, but he was unsuccessful; it was like trying to pry himself away from super glue. "If you _must_ know, _Mr. Kinney_, I AM competing – in the cake decorating contest. "What are YOU doing here?" he asked pointedly. Brian would have been the _last_ person he would have expected to attend a wedding expo of all things.

"I'm here on _business_," he growled, staring down at the blond's flushed face so close to his own, his eyes darkened with lust as he noted the fiery blue eyes and lips set in a determined pout; _simply adorable_. It was all he could do not to crush the other man's face to his and wipe that pout right off his kissable lips.

Justin's eyes widened at the obvious look of desire pouring from the other man; he was NOT going to fall into this man's trap again; there was too much riding on his reason for being there, and Emmett, among others, was counting on him.

"Brian," he hissed softly, staring back at the smoldering hazel eyes that were staring unblinkingly at him. "Will you _PLEASE LET….ME….GO!"_ He noticed to his embarrassment now that their personal little confrontation was now soliciting some unwelcome attention from the nearby crowd of visitors. _Just great,_ he thought. _What a terrific way to gain publicity for myself. I can just see the headline now: Twinkie cake decorator gets the cream filling squeezed out of him by crazed, sexy beast._

"Justin!" he heard a somewhat frantic squeal coming from nearby. _Thank God…..my rescuer. "_WHAT are you _doing_?" Emmett cried, placing his hands on his hips in consternation. "Did you not tell me we had to be over at the auditorium right away? We don't have time for these _indiscretions_!" He glared at Brian, his eyes flashing in irritation; hadn't the man done enough damage already? "Do you MIND?" he snapped, reaching over to pull his friend out of the other man's clutches. "We've got WORK to do!"

_Indiscretions? Who does this drama queen think he IS – some poor, hapless, lovesick sap that has to practically KIDNAP somebody to get some? It wasn't HIS fault that the Doughboy couldn't walk on his own two feet – SOMEBODY has to look out for him_. _Well, he had done his good deed – or rather, good DEEDS already; the rest was up to Justin_.

Smirking back haughtily at Justin's affronted friend, Brian abruptly released his prisoner as he raised his arms up as if to say – _look, Maw, no hands_; he freed Justin so unexpectedly that it was all the blond artist could do to keep himself upright as he stumbled out of the other man's arms. If it hadn't been for Emmett reaching over to grab his arm, he would have fallen flat on his face after all.

Tugging his shirt down to straighten it and restore just a little bit of his lost dignity along with it, Justin huffed out an indignant breath at Brian as he turned to face Emmett. "Let's go, Em," he said to his friend, holding his head up high in an attempt to fake indifference over what Brian was doing to his mind and his body. Before the man could affect him any further, he made a concerted effort to spin around and grab his nearby, temporarily-abandoned crate. "We've got a lot of work to do," he told his partner. "If you'll excuse us, _Mr. Kinney_," he icily stated, not bothering to wait for a reply. He had to get out of there NOW before he did something he might regret, like kiss the other man sensless.

Brian watched as the man who had occupied his every nocturnal wet dream for the past week, and several of his _daydreams_ as well, tread his way toward the auditorium for the cake competition with the Nelly Queen Mother of Pittsburgh. _Saved just in time, Doughboy_, he thought. The question was – WHO was saved – Justin…or HIM?

Waiting a respectable amount of time to pass, he slowly began to amble toward the contest arena, eager to see how his favorite cake designer fared in front of a studio audience and the nationally-televised cameras. With Justin's enormous creative talent, as well as Brian's added little insurance policy, Brian was confident that his own little personal advertising campaign was about to pay off handsomely, for both him AND Justin.


	22. Chapter 22: The War Begins

_**A/N: Sorry this is taking so long to update - I just started a new job two days ago and it's taking up more time than my previous job. I will definitely update all of my stories but unfortunately it might take me somewhat longer between updates for a while. Hope you'll stay with me, though, and keep letting me know what you think. Thanks as always for reading and especially reviewing - it motivates me to know someone is enjoying the story! Here's the next chapter!**_

* * *

_11:45 – Grand Auditorium _

Justin tugged their supply cart slowly up the ramp toward the stage with Emmett close behind, making sure nothing fell off. They had stuffed it full of anything Justin thought he might need to complete his design.

"I'm glad we didn't have to bring any utensils or mixers, Em," he told his friend. "I don't think I could have gotten one more item in this crate," he breathlessly said. Between his physical exertion, and his encounter with Brian a short while ago, his heart was pounding furiously. The fact that he was getting nervous, also, didn't help his pulse rate. Now that he and Emmett were actually on the stage where the competition would be held, he was finally aware of the grandiose nature of what they were about to experience. He was beginning to realize just what a humongous event this would be: There were cameras and lights set up everywhere; production assistants were scurrying around all over the stage while Justin found himself dodging cables and people as he and Emmett continued to pull their supplies toward the competition area. The expansive staging area was partitioned evenly so each competitor had their own individual preparation areas, complete with three long tables, an industrial-sized oven and refrigerator, and two heavy-duty commercial mixers for each contestant.

Justin noticed a table decorated with a white and blue satin tablecloth and royal blue bunting; at the middle of the table was a wedding cake embossed with the words "_This Is War!"_ across the bottom tier. A large sign hung down over the top of the table that said "_Contestants Registration_." There were two men and a woman sitting behind the table with clipboards in front of them.

"Looks like we need to go over there first," Justin told his friend, nodding his head in the direction of the table. As Emmett nodded his understanding, they began to pull their equipment toward the table. As they approached it, however, Emmett caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see what was happening. As he instantly recognized the man in front of him, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Em?" Justin called; he turned to notice that Emmett was standing about 10 feet away from him with his mouth gaping open widely. "What is it?" he asked curiously.

"Oh….My…._God_!" Emmett practically shrieked, as he rushed over to Justin and tightly grasped his friend's arm; he continued to stare back, however, at a man nearby who was speaking to someone with a microphone and an accompanying cameraman. "Do you see that _man? _Do you know who that _is_?"

Justin narrowed his brows to try and study the tall, blond-haired man speaking with someone who was apparently a reporter of some sort. He _did_ look familiar somehow but he couldn't quite place who he was. "I'm not sure….." he said hesitantly. The man was certainly attractive enough, but almost in a too-slick kind of way; as Justin peered at him, he didn't think he could find a single hair or piece of thread out of place anywhere; in fact, he reminded him of _someone else_ who thought he was perfect. "Who is it?" he asked his friend.

Emmett looked at him as if he was psycho. "Baby, don't you know who Paul Winslow is?" he scolded him. "I mean – he's the hottest chef on the Culinary Channel! And not just because he likes his _food_ spicy," Emmett told him confidentially. "Word is that he's fucked about every _hot-crossed bun _on television by now." Emmett continued to practically drool at the sight of the blond, California-type man with the too-perfectly-bronzed tan and dark Navy tailored Armani suit. "He's gorgeous," he enthused, sighing. "He could curdle my cheese any time," he added dreamily.

Justin glanced over at his too-absorbed friend and smirked. Yes, the man _was_ very good-looking, in a "Don't I Know It" kind of way, but too much confidence and arrogance just turned him off. At least once he had had a chance to get to know _Brian _better, it seemed like HE at least had a heart buried somewhere inside. As he continued to observe the chef schmoozing with the reporter, he shook his head in disgust. The man was simply TOO smug for his taste. "He's attractive enough," Justin grudgingly conceded to his business partner. "But he comes across as TOO confident to me," he decided firmly.

"I _thought_ you LIKED them _confident,"_ Emmett countered. He, too, could see a definite correlation between this arrogant chef and a certain other man the two of them had encountered a short while ago. He admitted that that was part of their allure, he supposed; they both knew they were drop-dead gorgeous, rich, and influential, and they _both_ knew they could get what – and WHOM – they wanted. With the exception of his friend, however; he hoped that finally Justin was beginning to see through Brian Kinney for the man he _really_ was – a strictly fuck-em-and-leave-em kind of man. Emmett, however, decided he would have to watch his friend's back closely; it was much too much of a coincidence that Kinney just happened to show up here. _Business indeed; maybe MONKEY business_.

"Em?" he turned, startled, as he heard Justin calling him. Coming out of his introspection, he answered with a slight smile, "I'm right with you, Baby – let's go get registered, okay? Something tells me _Mr. Gorgeous_ will be around for a while."

Justin nodded dryly; he had no doubt that Emmett was right. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion that both Paul Winslow and another overly-confident, gorgeous man would be hanging around for a while, also. He, too, didn't think it was simply business that explained why Brian had showed up at the same exact time as HE was here. Just what was Brian up to? He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts once again of the darkly handsome, dangerously sexy man that permeated so much of his thoughts lately; he HAD to concentrate on his work for the next few days, Brian or not, if he was to be successful and hopefully come away with the $10,000 prize. That money could not only help successfully launch their business – maybe even nationally – but also provide him with just enough of a financial cushion to keep him from worrying daily about where his next rent or food check would be coming from.

Justin smiled back at Emmett. "I'm right behind you, partner," he told his friend. "Let's go get this _done_." They both nodded their heads in agreement as they walked over to the registration table.

As they approached the decorated table, the trio of Culinary Channel representatives was busily registering other contestants. As they waited their turn, it gave Justin an opportunity to size up some of the other competitors. There were two women, apparently business partners judging from their identical plum-colored shirts, who appeared to be in their forties. One woman was short and rather plump with short, dark-brown hair; Justin surmised the two must be sisters because of their close resemblance. The other woman was built similarly with the same hair color but she was a little thinner. The two looked so much alike they could have been twins. When the two women finished their paperwork and finally turned around, Justin found that his guess was correct; they were wearing shirts emblazoned with the words _Gemini Gems – Cakes That Are Out of This World_. Accompanying the motto was a graphic of two planets that were decorated as cake pans complete with rosettes and candles. They both nodded politely as, now adorned with white, plastic badges that listed the name of their business and a number "2" on them, they proceeded toward the preparation area to find their designated kitchen.

"That's certainly appropriate – two, twins, Gemini," Em whispered to Justin as they waited in line. "I wonder how much they paid to produce _that_ little coincidence?" Emmett couldn't help it – he had seen enough of how power- and attention-hungry competitors in the hospitality industry could be to know that most events didn't happen by chance; they may _look_ that way but they normally never were.

Justin smiled a little wryly and shrugged his shoulder in a "who knows" action as they waited behind the next competitors to be registered. Pairs of contestants seemed to be the norm, because this was yet another couple together. These two, however, were men. One was tall and wiry with short-cropped dark blond hair and appeared to be around 30 years old. The other man was stocky with a small beer belly and spiky, chocolate-colored hair. Again, as in the case of the two women before them, these two were wearing coordinating outfits. From his vantage point behind them, Justin could read the writing on the back of their shirts, written in a flowing, silver script: _Cakes De 'Elegance_. As they turned around several seconds later, displaying their business name and a number "10" on their name badges, he was able to see the front. The black tee shirts were made up to appear as if they were wearing tuxedos befitting their classy name, complete with fake silver lapels, and they wore black hats that resembled the ones that limousine drivers would wear. Their outfits were replete with black jeans and even white gloves, similar to ones someone might wear if they were checking for dust. Justin's eyes widened as he considered how they could expect to make, much less _decorate_ a cake wearing those clumsy gloves, but as the two men stopped momentarily to size him up literally from head to toe, he felt his face flush and he averted his gaze as he heard a distinctive "humph" come from one of the men. As soon as he had a chance to look back at where they had been, however, he was surprised to notice they were already gone.

"Well!" Emmett hissed, insulted. "How _rude!_ They looked at us like we were cockroaches they would love to step on. Well, we'll just SEE who smashes WHOM!" he declared, just loudly enough to make sure they could overhear him. He gently nudged Justin toward the front of the registration table. "Don't even give them the pleasure of looking at them, Baby – WE'LL be the ones walking all over THEM! And how they think they can work with those sissy, stuffy gloves on is _beyond_ me…extremely out of fashion, too….." He noticed to his satisfaction that the men looked back at him icily in response; he spontaneously stuck out his tongue childishly at them before he firmly turned his back on the men while they finally walked away in disgust.

As they finally stood first in line now to be signed in, Emmett was _still_ chattering aimlessly away. Justin tried to look interested but his mind was focused, instead, on the challenges they were about to face. Just seeing the determined looks on the first two pairs of contestants proved to him that they meant business and they were in it to win. Well, despite his relatively young age and few years of business experience, so was he, and he was resolved to prove it. He just wished the butterflies in his stomach and his pounding heart would settle down. As he peered down into the stolid countenances of the three representatives, however, the apathetic looks on their faces simply added to his stress.

"Your names, please?" the woman responded curtly; there wasn't so much as a hint of a smile on her face – this woman was either bored as hell or all business. The other two representatives – both male – merely stared up at him expectantly with an unexpressive, stiff expression on their faces as they waited to check off yet another name from their clipboards. Justin felt like he was in the waiting line at the local polling place rather than at a prestigious, nationally-televised cake contest.

He cleared his throat to gain some confidence and hoped that his voice didn't come out sounding like Kermit the Frog. "Justin Taylor and Emmett Honeycutt," he managed to say in a fairly firm tone of voice, silently thanking the Fates that he didn't squeak like a scared little boy.

The woman stared at him pointedly for a few seconds, and even a little _longer_ at Emmett in his flashy attire before she glanced over at one of her colleagues to repeat the two partners' names. "Justin Taylor and Emmett Honeycutt?" she said in a questioning voice, apparently trying to verify that Justin and Emmett really belonged there. The way she was looking at him, especially, reminded him of a mother getting ready to scold her three-year-old for pretending to be something that he wasn't. He was relieved, then, when he heard one of the men say, "Number 8," indicating he _really_ DID belong there. The woman seemed somewhat taken aback by the confirmation, but nonetheless reached over to pick up two name badges from one of the assistants with a large number "8" on each one and the name of their business, _Cakes of Art_. She smiled slightly – more of a professionally-pasted, patronizing look than anything genuine – before she handed the badges to Justin, who in turn passed one of them onto Emmett. He rubbed his fingers almost reverently over his name and the title of their business as it finally began to sink in that he really WAS here, about to compete in front of several hundred people live and several _million_ on television. "Wow," he said softly, looking over at Emmett. "This really IS real," he whispered. "My God…This is _big_, Em – REAL big." He began to grin in delight at the realization of what a great opportunity this was to spotlight their business.

Emmett impulsively reached over to give his friend a quick hug and a small kiss on the cheek. "You _bet_ is it, Baby," he replied, smiling. "Now let's take this crate over to our kitchen and give the others the fight of their life!"

Justin grinned at him as he nodded. "Let's do it," he said firmly as he grasped the cart's handles and began to tug their supplies across the stage toward the temporary kitchen with a large, black number "8" posted on the front of the preparation counter. He noticed they were right in the center of the arena's makeshift kitchens, near a large bank of cameras set up to record the event; he was struggling as he attempted to tug their cart over the numerous thick, black cables strewn on the floor for the upcoming television coverage. He noticed to his consternation that Emmett was so engrossed in all the activity taking place that he was well ahead of him and apparently oblivious to his difficulties. He was about to call for Emmett to help him when he tripped unexpectedly on yet another cable and landed flat on his ass on the hard, wooden floor.

"Shit!" he cried out in part pain and disgust as he sat there on the floor in aggravation. As he slowly rose to reach over for the crate's handle to help him get up, he heard a soft chuckle and a British-accent say, "Need a hand there, sweet cheeks?" He looked up into the twinkling eyes of a black-haired man who appeared to be in his late 20's with green eyes and a dazzling smile as he held out his hand in assistance. Justin was momentarily paralyzed by the look of bemusement on the other man's face and the intriguing accent as he sat there staring at the other man with an embarrassed flush beginning to appear on his face. "Uh…," he began glibly, before he managed to add..."thanks," and reached up to accept the outstretched hand. As the man pulled him up steadily, Justin found himself not only with a flushed face but also flush with the other man's _body_. "My _pleasure_," the other man replied smoothly as he held Justin firmly in his arms; his vibrant emerald-colored eyes stared pointedly into Justin's as he added, "I see you're the competition." He nodded at Justin's badge for emphasis.

Justin cursed his body's physical response to this man's taut frame as well as his smooth, baritone British accent as the man continued to hold him unnecessarily. If he didn't escape soon, he was about to embarrass himself awkwardly. He finally breathed out a soft sigh of nervous relief when the man finally released him from his grasp. He noticed the man was wearing a badge that displayed a number "5" and the name of his business, _Scrumptious Buns. _"Hayden Sterling," he said in introduction, smiling as he stuck out his hand again in a more formal greeting. Justin couldn't help noticing the man's studious gaze of him, beginning with his eyes and slowly skimming down over the rest of his body; his _gaydar_ immediately turned itself on as the man's more than _professional _interest became obvious.

Justin reached out tentatively to grasp the other man's hand again in a polite handshake this time. "Justin Taylor," he responded just a little shakily; his pulse shot up as the man proceeded to hold onto his hand just a little longer than was necessary before he finally released it.

"Pleased to meet you, _Justin Taylor_," the other man drawled in an intriguing British cadence. "Good luck – come see me after this is all over and we'll whip up something _spicier _together, eh?" he responded smoothly with a lustful smirk. "Scrumptious buns _indeed_," he drawled huskily, raking over the blond's profile one more lingering time before giving Justin a wink as he turned to head back over toward his own kitchen, leaving the artist with a red face and a sore ass from his accident.

"My, my, my," he heard Emmett cluck as he walked up to him. "Looks like somebody's trying to cook up something _else, _isn't he?" his friend said with a smile. "How about sharing the wealth, Baby?" he asked. "How do you _do _it? You're like honey to a fly…and he's a hot one…..with a British accent to boot. When you get done, can I play with him?"

Justin rolled his eyes as he looked over at his friend sideways. "Who said I was interested?" he protested defensively. He had to admit, though – Emmett was _right_. The man WAS hot; he just didn't need the complication right now. "He's all yours, Em," he assured his friend. "I've got enough on my plate right now, trust me."

"Goody!" Emmett responded, smiling and clapping his hands briefly. "I always _knew_ you were a generous man," he added, placing an arm around Justin's shoulder and giving him a brief squeeze.

Justin smiled. "Any time, Em…..Now let's get this damn crate over there before I break my neck, okay? Help me out here….." Finally, with Justin pulling the crate, and Em pushing from behind, they managed to walk the additional 20 feet or so to their assigned kitchen area without any further incident.

* * *

From his vantage point in the audience, Brian glared as he witnessed the encounter between his Doughboy and a dark-haired, tall, opportunistic man who wasted no time "helping" Justin to his feet after he tripped on a television cable. _That fucker_, he thought as he seethed in resentment, _if anyone is holding that man in his arms, it should be ME_. Wicked thoughts of just what he could to sabotage the other man's entry in the competition filtered through his head as he continued to shoot daggers at the other man, who was blissfully unaware of the heated attention he was presently receiving. As Brian followed Justin's steps closely, he _was_ determined about one thing – he wasn't letting the blond – or that _other_ man – out of his sight until this whole escapade was over.

"Is something wrong, Daddy?" he heard his son ask him; the boy was sitting on Lindsey's lap to his left, closely watching the events about to unfold on stage. Gus peered at his father puzzled as he noticed the angry set to his father's face and his dark, almost flashing eyes as he kept his gaze fixed on the stage below.

Brian deliberately tried to relax his expression as he turned reluctantly to briefly address his son. "No, Sonny Boy, I'm fine – why?"

His son scrunched up his face thoughtfully before he replied, "You just seemed so mad. Did I do something?" He big brown eyes peered back at him innocently.

Brian smiled tenderly at his little boy. "No, Big Guy, you didn't do anything wrong. Daddy just had something on his mind, that's all. I'm fine."

Lindsey leaned over to whisper in her friend's ear, "You mean some _ONE_, don't you, _Daddy_?" She raised one eyebrow in a silent expression of _I'm on to you, Brian Kinney_ before she smiled knowingly at him. "Someone encroaching on your territory?" She had witnessed Justin's mishap on stage and had also noticed her friend's icy glare at the other man who dared to flirt with his "property." No matter what Brian might pretend to feel or NOT feel, it remained obvious to her that there was a lot more on the line with Justin than just a casual encounter. One look on Brian's face and it was readily apparent – the man was inflicted with a serious case of the green monster, all right.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Brian whispered back, trying to speak softly enough so his impressionable son didn't hear him.

"You know what I'm talking about, Brian…I saw the look on your face when that man down there helped Justin up after he tripped. Don't try to deny it," she challenged him.

Brian huffed and rolled his eyes. "You're out of your mind, Lindsey…..I couldn't care _less_ what Taylor does – or who he does it _with_." The feelings stirring in him, however, made him realize acutely that what he just said was a total lie – he DID care – more than he ever had before, and much more than he ever thought possible. Since he and Justin had had their encounter earlier this morning, he couldn't keep his thoughts from the other man, nor forget the remembrance of how wonderful it felt to hold him in his arms again. God, how his missed him – every _part _of him. Not only his remarkable, petite body that seemed to fit so perfectly against his, but the way he could challenge him at every turn, stimulate his thinking, and give back as good as he got. He pondered silently how this man could make him feel things he never thought he could feel before, and he longed to _tell _him that, if only he had the courage to do it.

"Mm, hmm," Lindsey murmured. "You just keep thinking that, Brian…..over and over again, until the man's out of your life for good. He's talented, smart, and adorable….it won't take long for a lucky replacement to come along…..Maybe he _already _has," she noted, nodding her head in the direction of Justin's erstwhile _knight in shining armor._ She thought it was time to quit mincing words with her friend – she was convinced she had been right all along about his feelings for Justin and it was now time to put up or shut up. She cared too much about Justin to see him being hurt the way Brian had hurt him – either her friend had to start owning up to his true feelings regarding the other man or be fair and let someone _else_ have the privilege. "What are you afraid of?" she asked him softly, although she knew him well enough by now to KNOW the answer: he had never really had a good example to follow when it came to loving someone – his parents definitely didn't fit the bill. And no matter how much others may care about him – Gus, Michael, Debbie, and her – it just wasn't the same when it came to _being IN love_ with someone. If Brian would just let himself reveal his true feelings for Justin, she knew the other man deeply cared for him as well. She sighed to herself – this damned stubborn, proud man was about to lose the best thing that ever happened to him if he didn't act promptly and do the right thing.

Brian looked over at her in astonishment; how could she read his mind so well? He wasn't about to admit how much she was right, however; Brian Kinney _never_ needed – or was afraid – of anyone; at least until now, nor would he ever confess just how perceptive his friend was. "I'm _not_ afraid of anything," he maintained icily. "You're out of your mind," he growled. "I don't fucking care _what_ he does."

Lindsey shook her head sadly. Why was he making this so damned difficult? She was becoming downright indignant and angry now as she realized how much of a mistake her friend was making. "Why is it so hard for you to admit you honestly _care_ about him?" she asked him. She placed Gus gently down on the seat next to her before she lowered her voice and turned to Brian to tell him pointedly, "If you don't do something – and _soon_ – you're going to LOSE him for GOOD. That would be a real shame – for BOTH of you, because I really think for whatever crazy reason, he cares a lot about _you_, too. He won't wait forever for you to admit how you really feel, though, and I wouldn't blame him. You're one of the smartest men I know most of the time, but NOT this time. Don't wind up making the biggest mistake of your life."

She and Brian locked stares for several seconds silently before Brian finally broke his gaze and, leaning over the back of the chair in front of him, he placed his head on his hands and peered down at the object of his heart's desire mutely, a small huff of breath the only visible sign of agitated confession escaping from his lips. He no longer had the courage – or the _desire_ – to keep denying his feelings; Lindsey was one hundred percent _right_ – he cared deeply for Justin and it scared the shit out of him. Could he somehow, though, get the courage to admit it out loud to the other man and make him understand what a horrible fucking mistake he had made at the diner? One thing he DID know, however – he wasn't going to let the man out of his sight until he had another opportunity to talk to him and try to explain his actions. Hell, HE didn't really understand his actions earlier, not really – how was he going to make _Justin_ understand, then? Somehow, he had to TRY – or Lindsey was right; he WAS going to lose the best thing that ever happened to him.

He felt a warm hand on his back as he looked over at his friend, his face undoubtedly verifying that he realized Lindsey had hit the nail on the head – he was just too proud to confess it out loud. She smiled softly at him and nodded before removing her hand to applaud the announcement of the contestants approaching the front of the stage to be introduced.

Paul Winslow, dressed impeccably in a dark navy tailored suit with a crisp, white shirt and navy pinstriped tie, spoke clearly in a polished manner into the microphone as he faced a bank of cameras staring back at him. "Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen and Culinary Channel Viewers to the 14th Annual _Wedding Cake Wars!_" His bleached blond hair shone under the harsh glare of the spotlights overhead, as well as his blindingly white teeth, while he waited for the boisterous applause to die down before continuing, "This year, we are broadcasting from the Grand Auditorium of the Great Exposition Hall during Pittsburgh's Bridal Expo. And if I do say so myself, I think we have gathered the most talented array of cake designers yet to compete in this year's grand prize of ten _thousand_ dollars!" The crowd again erupted right on cue with enthusiastic applause as the contestants stood in a line behind him, the cameras swinging from right to left for a close up of each competitor, just like they were Miss America finalists.

As they stood there, Justin could feel his hands shaking nervously; this was it – the start of their big adventure. He prayed that his knees would stay firm and he wouldn't fall flat on his face in front of a nationwide television audience as their slick television host continued to explain the events about to unfold.

"Oh, they both look _adorable_, don't they, Gus?" Lindsey asked her son. She noticed both Emmett and Justin wearing identical, white aprons embroidered with the name and slogan of their business – the ones that Brian had so meticulously thought up. The white starkness of the apron and caps were set off perfectly with vivid colors underneath contained appropriately within an artist's palette, no doubt the creation of the blond designer presently modeling a set. Emmett's plum and eggplant ensemble, also, contrasted well with the brightness of their business apparel. She hoped that Mel had been able to successfully set their DVD recorder at home to record the events taking place – she wanted to be able to show Justin – as well as his mother, who was unfortunately out of town during the event – how well he looked on camera. She thought he, in particular, looking absolutely cute as a button, as well as sexy as hell in his snug, white apron that he wore over a casual outfit of a long-sleeved, cherry red tee shirt and dark blue, fitted jeans with his customary sneakers.

Gus bobbed his head enthusiastically in agreement. "Ador'ble," he responded in kind as he garbled the word. "Pretty," he added solemnly, soliciting a grin from Brian in spite of himself and a soft chuckle from his mother.

"That too, little man," she said softly, as she – and Brian – continued to gaze fixedly at the events about to occur on stage.

As the applause died down, Winslow continued, his voice maintaining its smooth, professional manner. "Before the competition starts, I'd like to introduce the contestants." He walked to the beginning of the line behind him as he stated, "Beginning from left to right, I'd like to first introduce Team #1 from _Lone Star Treats_ of Houston, Texas – Abby Longworth and Theresa Watson!" As the crowd applauded politely, two women – one blond and willowy and the other a redhead of average height and weight – shook hands with the emcee and bowed slightly as they acknowledged the crowd before turning to walk over to their assigned kitchen.

"The next team is all the way from Geneva, Switzerland – Team #2 is known as _Swiss Delights_ – let's hear a round of applause for Edon Kirkeguard and Albert Cameron!" Two blond-haired men who appeared to be in their 40s clasped Winslow's hand before they, too, turned to amble over to kitchen #2.

"And now – Team #3 – coming from Seattle, Washington – say hello to the owners of _Cakes De 'Elegance_ – Mason Montgomery and Dustin Lawrence!" Justin fidgeted with tension as he recognized the previous pair of snooty men who had turned their nose up in apparent mockery as they had registered earlier. He noted with interest that they now had the white gloves off – apparently both figuratively as WELL as literally; evidently when it came to getting down to business, they knew what they needed to do to seriously compete. Justin fervently hoped that he and Emmett, however, would persevere over this duo as well as all the others. He knew, however, that they would definitely have their work cut out for them as the emcee introduced the next pair of contestants.

As the emcee spoke their country of origin out loud – England – Justin knew instantly who one of the contestants would be. A glance over confirmed that he was right – it was the man who had helped him up earlier after he had tripped. As Winslow introduced Sterling Hayden and his partner – a woman by the name of Emma Herrington – he watched as the pair ambled toward kitchen #4 and approached the two of them on their way to their designed competition area. He felt his face grow hot and knew he was turning a distinct shade of red as the man again winked at him and smiled saucily as he came closer; he was startled, however, when the man subtly but purposefully nudged his shoulder as he walked by and whispered, "Come over for dessert later, _sweet cheeks_," before he nonchalantly continued on over to their appointed kitchen.

Em noticed with some concern that Justin was growing more and more nervous. "Hold it together, Baby," he whispered encouragingly as it finally came time for their names to be announced. "Just a few more seconds and it'll be over."

Justin swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. _No, not over, Em…..it's just BEGINNING_, he couldn't help thinking as he noted they were now next in line to be introduced.

"And now – no doubt the local favorite – from right here in Pittsburgh – it is my pleasure to introduct the team from _Cakes of Art_ – Justin Taylor and Emmett Honeycutt!" he cried, as a raucous, noisy racket erupted from the hometown crowd congregated in the auditorium. As Justin smiled nervously in acknowledgement and nodded his head slightly, Emmett, on the other hand, beamed widely and waved one of his hands in the air as if he were greeting his royal subjects before they shook Paul Winslow's hand and walked slowly toward their appointed kitchen.

Justin heaved a large sigh of relief as they finally stood behind the kitchen counter. "Damn – I'm so glad that's over," Justin told his partner, as he grasped the counter with both hands for support. His heart was pounding rapidly over all the excitement as he fervently hoped he wouldn't somehow either drop or butcher his cake completely before he had a chance to actually finish it.

Emmett, however, seemed unfazed by all the attention; in fact, he was practically _basking_ in it. He clapped his hands gleefully. "This is SO exciting!" he cried, as they waited for the rest of the contestant pairs to finish being introduced. "Being on camera is SO much fun!" he exclaimed. "I can't wait to get started. I hope they interview us during the competition like they do on all the _other_ shows," he added, his eyes sparkling in anticipation of having his close-up on camera.

Justin glanced over at his friend in disbelief. Here he was practically quaking in his sneakers and his friend was downright _giddy_ over the prospect of being under a television microscope. "How can you be so _calm_?" he asked his friend, his eyes wide with amazement. "I'm nervous as hell," he admitted truthfully; already he was starting to get too hot under the constant heat of the spotlights overhead; he couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it might get as the competition wore on – both due to the equipment as well as the other participants. Something told him Emmett had been right – this was going to get nasty. Why did he agree to do this again? Oh, yeah…..money talks. Well, maybe he wasn't speaking the same language somehow. He knew it was too late to back out now, though – they were in it for the long haul.

Emmett smiled sympathetically as he gave Justin a slight hug before he released him. "Well, I'll do all the interviews, Baby," he offered. "I LOVE the attention!"

Justin had to admit he _sure _LOOKED happy about the prospect, unlike the queasy feeling he had in his own stomach. "I'll be glad to bow to your wishes," he verified. "I'll bake and design and you can be our spokesman, okay?"

Emmett clapped his hands. "Ooh…time on camera and with that gorgeous man to boot – you've got a deal, Sweetie!" he agreed happily. "So what do you want me to do first before I take on my starring role?" he teased him.

Justin smirked; it was probably prudent to get Emmett's help right away, because something told him it might be temporary once he was _discovered_ on national T.V. Letting out a shaky breath, he was about to answer when he heard their emcee speaking again to the studio and national audience. "The competition will officially start in one minute. Contestants, prepare to begin on my countdown. Repeat – one minute to start."

Justin watched as the large, red-numbered clock hanging prominently on a nearby wall began to count down the seconds until the start of the competition. He turned to Emmett now to say, "As soon as we can start, we need to get our supplies unpacked right away so I have everything I need out in the open, okay?" He waited impatiently for the rest of the time to whittle away as he stared nervously as the clock counted down…30…29…28…27…26…

Who ever thought 60 seconds could take so fucking long? Finally, after what seemed like a tremendous amount of time has elapsed, a loud air horn sounded nearby in perfect coordination with the last second disappearing and he heard Winslow's excited voice announcing, "You may begin NOW! Good luck, everyone!"

Justin heard the familiar upbeat tempo of _Wedding Cake Wars _strike up on the overhead speakers as he turned to Emmett and practically shouted, "Let's DO it!" _The war had begun…in more ways than one..._


	23. Chapter 23: Competition Day One

As the clock finally counted down to the magical number of "zero," it was as if all the contestants had been shot out of a cannon – even though the competition would take place over the next three days, everyone took off in a mad rush toward their respective, makeshift kitchens as if their life depended on it. If they could have been seen overhead, the group would have appeared to resemble a large, colorful collection of rats running in a maze. Justin had to adroitly sidestep one of the "Gemini" designer twins, as the woman almost ran headfirst into him in a frantic hurry to claim her designer space.

"Holy shit," Emmett muttered under his breath, as he and Justin walked briskly toward their own designated space. "You'd think all these people had a spatula up their ass. The rules _did_ say three DAYS, not _seconds_, didn't they?"

Justin laughed softly as they walked riskly toward their goal. "Yeah, if I remember correctly. You wouldn't think so, though. Maybe they know something WE don't," he added thoughtfully as they finally reached their own temporary _home away from home_. For the next three days, Justin figured the two of them would pretty much be eating, sleeping, and thinking _cake_…and hopefully dreaming of dollar signs when they win. At least, that was the way he was trying to approach it. If he didn't really think they had a legitimate chance of winning, there was no point in even _trying_.

As Justin methodically began to remove all of their items from his supply cart with Emmett's help, he heard the voice of Paul Winslow, the celebrity chef host of the event, speaking over the several speakers temporarily established throughout the competition arena.

"This is it, ladies and gentlemen! The exciting start of the three-day _Wedding Cake Wars_ competition! This broadcast is being taped to be played back later this evening on the _Culinary Channel_, so if you have to miss any of it, be sure to watch it later tonight at 9:00! The same schedule will be maintained tomorrow night, but on Friday, we will be coming _live_ to the entire nation at 6:00 Eastern Standard Time for the exciting finish to this most prestigious event!

While the contestants are beginning their initial preparations, I DO have a number of announcements to make at this time. There has been a change to one of the judges scheduled to determine the winner of this event. I am sorry to say that due to unforeseen difficulties, Mr. Dylan Howell, Editor of _Piece of Cake_ magazine, has had to withdraw from his participation in this event."

A collective groan of disappointment could be heard from both the female _and_ undoubtedly gay male members of the audience sitting out in the seats at that announcement. "_Unforeseen circumstances_, my ass," Emmett muttered under his breath to Justin as he handed him a box of rolled fondant. "That's a _good_ one. Gives a whole new meaning to _coming up in the rear_ of the race." Justin laughed and twisted his face in amusement at his friend's comment as he carefully picked up several molds he would be using for his design from inside the cart and laid them on a nearby table. If only the audience _really_ knew the reason why Howell couldn't be a judge – it would certainly make for much more interesting fodder for the media.

As the somewhat vocal protest eventually died down, Winslow continued speaking as all the contestants methodically began to place the items they would need for their design around their appointed work spaces. "Not to fear, however, ladies and gentlemen. In Mr. Howell's place, we have secured the services of a very distinguished replacement. So without further ado, I would like to introduce _all_ of the four judges assigned to what will no doubt be the extremely difficult task of judging the winner for this contest."

As the suave chef began to announce the names and credentials of the judges, Justin had to admit – he didn't recognize all of the names, but he certainly could respect their background and experience. Each judge had either an impressive pedigree in either the culinary or cake designing world; Justin actually was familiar with the name of Sylvia Cooper, the owner of _Sylvia's Sensations_. While he had never seen her, he had certainly _heard_ of her; her name was sprinkled profusely throughout several of the magazines he frequently perused for design tips and ideas. As he took a few seconds to glance over at her while she stood up to be introduced, he decided she was definitely not going to be the _warm, fuzzy_ type.

Emmett peered over at the judges' table to see what his friend was studying. He snorted. "I wonder if her face would crack if she actually _smiled_? SHE certainly wouldn't have been open to a bribe. In fact, looking at her – who would even be _willing_ to BRIBE her?" He reached down in Justin's supply crate to pull out a cinched fabric sack containing several piping bags and decorating tips.

Justin shook his head at his friend's bantering as he took out several cutting and shaping tools from the plastic box. "Now, Em…..play nice," he mockingly chided his friend, as he laid the tools on the counter next to the boxes of fondant. "She can't help it if she was born that way," he added, giggling. He had to admit – that woman had a face only her own mother could love. The severely-wrapped bun on top of her head, along with her austere-looking clothing, only accentuated that feeling.

The other female judge and two male judges, including the replacement for Dylan Howell, were also introduced in the same manner by their over-the-top announcer. Each time, just like all the other contestants did, Justin and Emmett took a few seconds to study their evaluators, trying to determine just what type of judge they may turn out to be and what their own chances might be under their watchful scrutiny. From the indechipherable looks on all of their faces, however, it was impossible to tell who might have the inside edge and eventually wind up as the triumphant winner.

As the judges sat back down after their introduction and the audience quieted down to begin observing the contestants' initial preparations, Justin made a point of forcefully returning his mind to what he needed to do. While they _did_ have the next three days to finish their product, the amount of time allotted was deceptive; by the time he mixed up and baked his cake to his satisfaction, and by the time he finished the design he had created, he would undoubtedly need every entire second of the next three days to complete his work. He had watched enough cake decorating shows in the past to know that things did not always go the way you planned, so allowing for some untimely, unforeseen minor (or God forbid – _major_) catastrophes was always prudent in these cases. He only hoped he had allowed sufficient time to account for them – only time would tell at this point. "Em….help me get the cake base out of the bottom of the crate, will you?" he asked his friend. He had brought a solid, hardwood cake support base for his creation; he had _also_ witnessed several on-air fiascos where a contestant had worked several hours to design and decorate an elaborate cake, only to have part – or ALL of it – figuratively blow up in their faces when they tried to move it to the judging area; that was ONE possible problem he was intent on avoiding at all costs. He knew how heavy his finished creation would be and he had hopefully taken the necessary setps to avoid experiencing what so many others before him had experienced.

As they finally finished removing everything from their cart, Justin heard their announcer once again. "Ok…..the contest has officially commenced. We will be highlighting each of the teams throughout the competition and conducting interviews with the participants to gain some insight into their ideas. To reiterate the rules of the contest, each team will have until 5:00 p.m. today to get their cake mixed up and baked so they will be ready tomorrow to begin frosting and decorating it. They will be expected to adhere to the appointed theme of their design, and will be judged according to their creativity, originality and design skill. Thursday and Friday, they will be continuing their work until their endeavors culminate in crowning the grand prize winner live on nationwide TV at 10:00 p.m. Friday! Let's give all of our contestants a supportive round of applause as they begin their task!"

The entire audience exploded into enthusiastic clapping at the encouragement of an in-studio prompter as Justin began to tick off in his head what he needed to do first. He breathed out a large huff of air to let off some stress as Em asked inquisitively, "What do you want to do first, Baby?"

"Well, we're supposed to have a fully-stocked kitchen, and I took the written rules at their word. Let's see if it was true." He reached over to pick up the page containing his recipe. As Emmett peered over his shoulder, he told his friend, "Here're the ingredients I need. Can you see if we have the dry ones in the overhead shelves over there and I'll go over to the refrigerators to get the eggs, butter and milk we'll need?"

"You bet, partner," Em told him, smiling, he took the proffered list from his friend and clamped a supportive hand briefly on his business partner's back before he rushed off to complete the blond's request. As the taller man opened up their cubicle shelves and began to take down what they would need, Justin took the opportunity to walk the 20 feet or so over to the four double-door, stainless-steel refrigerators temporarily set up in a common area for the teams' use; two or three teams were each assigned a specific unit to retrieve needed perishable items from.

He was about to open up their designated appliance located nearest to him just as another hand reached out for the handle at the same time. "Ah, love, so we meet again," he heard a familiar, cultured, British-accented voice state. He had heard the same voice recently; as he turned to verify it, he found himself up close and personal with the same man he had encountered a short while ago during his latest mishap (did he have a _klutz onboard – do not tangle with_ sign on his chest?). He was beginning to think so. "Uh," he began somewhat awkwardly, recalling their initial meeting when the man had rescued him from injuring himself after he tripped on a heavy television cable, "You go ahead," he hastily encouraged the other man.

"Why, thank you, _Justin Taylor_," Hayden Sterling responded; Justin noticed to his embarrassment that the man from _Scrumptious Buns_ kept his hand on top of Justin's for what seemed like an inordinate length of time before he finally released the handle to allow the blond to remove his own hand. Justin felt his face warm and knew it was effused presently with a distinctive shade of pink as he waited for what seemed like forever for the man to finish up collecting what he needed and place it in a small, rectangular-shaped, hard plastic shopping container that had been supplied for each team's use.

As the man finally stowed what he required in his basket, he turned one last time to rake his gaze over Justin's slight frame before he smiled appreciatively and said, "Don't forget what I said before," he told the blond with a soft, but unmistakable invitation in his voice. "Come look me up after this is over and we'll do a little one-on-one _designing_." As the man finally turned to go, he added one last comment as he smiled and winked at Justin. "Good Luck, little _artiste_." Justin sighed in relief as the man finally walked away and he had the chance at last to open up the door and retrieve the items he needed. _It was going to be a LONG three days…._

* * *

Brian seethed in his seat as he observed the same persistent fucker again openly flirting with his very own _D__oughboy_; who did this man this he WAS? He was already on edge after learning that his _hard-won_ attempt to help Justin succeed had been totally squashed by the revelation that the judge he had meticulously chosen to be the lucky recipient of his undivided "attention" had _withdrawn_. He knew that had to be more than a coincidence; evidently, the judge's intention had been detected somehow. He had thought for sure that the two of them had been alone during their "performance" in the men's' room; however, apparently either they had not been alone after all, or the judge had had a sudden epiphany of righteous remorse and spilled the beans to the sponsor. If he _had_, however, Justin would have definitely been disqualified and he was still competing. Apparently, then, at least the judge hadn't cracked under the pressure and named specific names, to Brian's enormous relief. He eyed Justin's admirer warily now, exasperated that he would have to divide his attention now between Justin and this other man to make sure he wasn't outbid in his efforts to recapture his _Doughboy's _heart again.

He sighed to himself; he desperately wanted to speak with Justin again to try and make things right between them, but he questioned if now was the best time. He knew the blond needed to concentrate on his work, but the longer this disagreement festered, the greater the chance would be that he wouldn't be able to make things right with him. He _missed_ his company – yes, they were obviously _physically_ compatible – he had _never_ had been with anyone else who could make his body respond the way Justin did – but he honestly missed his company most of all. He missed the way Justin would challenge him at every turn, the way he looked at him so eagerly and so intently, and the way he could almost read his mind. He was beginning to have doubts about that last assertion, however, because if the blond _could_ read his mind, he would know how terribly he missed him and how much he regretted what he had done. Somehow he had to make him realize that and win him back – but how? And was now the right time? Could he wait, though? All those questions whispered to him inside his mind as he continued to watch his heart's goal intensely while Justin prepared to go head-to-head with all the other competitors. For now, Brian decided to wait to speak with him; but for how long, only his heart would determine the answer to that.

"Where are you going, Daddy?" Gus asked him, as he abruptly stood up; Lindsey peered over curiously at him in a silent question as well; she didn't think as long as Justin was on stage, he would go _anywhere_. Brian wasn't fooling her at all with his claim that he was only here on _business_. She knew _exactly_ what sort of business he was pursuing and it didn't have a thing to do with Kinnetik. "Something wrong?" she asked her friend.

Brian shook his head. "Everything's fine," he assured his son and his friend. "I just need to take care of a small errand. I'll be back in a few minutes," he told them as he turned and shuffled sideways out of the row of seats. Just because he had promised himself that he wouldn't bother Justin, that did NOT apply to someone else.

_

* * *

__Back on Stage_

"Okay," Justin said to his friend as he finally returned to the temporary kitchen with his perishable items. "I think I have everything on the list – at least, I _hope_ I remembered everything," he told Emmett. "Did you find everything else we needed in the cupboard?"

To his relief, Emmett shook his head affirmatively. "Yeah, it was all there, thank goodness. I was able to check everything off. You've got me really curious now, though, Baby. Just what are we designing? You promised to tell me when we got here, remember?" The decorations and wide variety of colors were definitely stoking his interest in what his friend had come up; he couldn't wait to see Justin's latest design. All of Justin's creations were sensational, but for this competition, Emmett had a feeling his friend was going to be topping everything else he had previously done.

Justin smiled as he nodded in agreement. "Yes, I did...Okay." He reached over to pick up one of his sketchpads that contained three pages of drawings he had made in connection with his creation today. "This is what I thought I'd do…..it will probably either go over as an incredibly innovative, bold design or it may just get us disqualified. What do you think?" he asked his friend, as he slowly leafed through the designs he had made of the scene and characters involved.

It took Emmett several seconds of studying the sketches to fully understand what he was seeing. "_Oliver_? Does this mean what I think it means, Baby? Are you really going to change it to that?"

Justin raised his eyebrows playfully and smiled. "You bet…..what do you think? Will it work?"

"Oh, my God!" Emmett cried, placing his hand over his mouth in stunned delight. "I think it's _pure genius!_ I LOVE it! You go, Baby!" he said, clapping his hands briefly in happiness. "I think it's _wonderful!"_ Emmett looked again at his friend's drawings….he never in a million years would have guessed _this_ design idea; it was pure inspirational mastery. His friend was right, though – either the judges would applaud his bravery and originality, or they would throw them both out on their collective asses. "Let's DO it," he encouraged his friend. "I can't _wait_ to see their reaction. And if they don't like it, then they don't _deserve_ to have you participate in it," he told Justin firmly.

Justin smiled affectionately at his friend's staunch support of him. "Thanks, Em," he told the other man. "I knew I could count on you. Okay – we need to get the rectangular part of the water's base prepared first. Hand me the large sheet cake pan over there, okay? If you'll get it greased and ready to use, I'll start mixing up the ingredients. If I tell you what I need in what order, can you hand them to me when I ask you? If we coordinate the preparation, we shouldn't have any trouble getting the entire cake prepared and baked before our time's up later today."

"You got it, partner," Emmett told him, reaching over to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "Let's knock 'em dead!"

Justin smiled broadly and nodded at him. "Okay….let's start with the main base. After you get the pan greased, I'll need 4 cups of flour and 5 of the eggs…"

* * *

Brian slowly edged his way down toward the side of the stage where the contestants were briskly beginning the initial stage of their cake designs. He noticed the impertinent, flirting Brit's team was luckily located nearest to stage left, just perfect for his latest _intervention_. He could just see his little "manipulations" featured on cable television's newest show: well-known, respected advertising tycoon needs help breaking the habit of intervening in his _Doughboy's_ attempts at stardom. Stay tuned to see if his concerned friends and colleagues are able to successfully break him of this pervasive habit…..

He shook his head briskly in an attempt to return his focus on the present situation. He was finally within 10 feet of the side steps leading up to the left of the stage. He quietly crept closer, closer to the supply cabinet being used by the English team…..

"Sir? Sir! Excuse me, but you can't access the stage from this location. If you're part of the crew, you'll have to use the rear entrance. You'll also need your credentials to gain admittance." A stern-looking man wearing a solid black security uniform held his hand out in front of the steps to block Brian's further progress.

Clearly insulted that anyone would think he could possibly be a member of any "crew," Brian huffed out a sigh of frustration…..so close, so very damn close. But not close enough to do any good. As much as he hated the idea, he would just have to let Justin win the legitimate way – on his own merit. As he slowly turned around to trudge back up to his seat, he realized perhaps that was best. Did he have so little confidence in Justin's abilities to not let him win this contest on his own? If he didn't, then his _Doughboy_ didn't _deserve_ to win. And he knew without a doubt that the blond could do it – he had seen profuse evidence of that during the past few weeks. Besides, if Justin found out about his complicity in the matter, he would never forgive him. That wouldn't help him to win him back, and that was the most important goal for him. Maybe it was fate looking out for him when the judge was disqualified. He would probably have enough of a challenge confessing to Justin how he had managed to become a last-minute contestant – even though he had put a bug in the right man's ear to have Justin considered, he hadn't bribed anyone to choose him to be a participant; Justin had won that privilege on his own. And how would his own son react to knowing his father had "cheated?" No, as much as he wanted to help Justin, the blond had to do this on his own, or it wouldn't mean the same to him; he knew that deep down. It was a relatively foreign concept to him, but he knew how important it would be to the other man. "You can do it, Doughboy," Brian murmured, as he turned around to watch his heart's desire hard at work with his business partner. "Give 'em hell."

_

* * *

__Four Hours Later_

"Whew," Justin blew out a huff of air as he displaced some hair that had fallen over his forehead. "I'm _exhausted_," he told Emmett, as he peered inside the oven's window to note the progress of their cake. The bottom, rectangular-shaped base of the cake was browning to a nice, golden hue, just as he had hoped; the other two sheet cakes were in another oven adjoining the main one, with approximately 20 minutes left for them before the timer went off. These three components would form the main basis of his cake; from there, he would be able to work on the actual character designs for the ship he was going to be constructing next.

"How's it looking, Baby?" Emmett asked him, as he clasped a supportive hand on his partner's back behind him. "Everyone going as expected?" he asked hopefully. He had just returned from being interviewed by his favorite celebrity chef, their guest emcee Paul Winslow. The interview had been conducted a short distance away, so Justin had the extreme delight of watching his partner amusedly as he animatedly carried on about their experience so far in the competition. Justin had cautioned him against explaining what they were doing just yet; he wanted it to be a surprise for as long as possible. At least the biggest part would be able to wait until the very last minute, since it involved the two main characters he was going to be using. They would be the last two parts of the cake to be arranged, so the element of surprise would be easier to maintain that way. He only hoped their idea was greeted with accolades rather than derision when the time came to reveal it.

Justin turned away from the oven window to look at his partner. "It's on schedule so far," he told the other man, nodding. "I'm glad we did a test run at home, though, or I would have vastly underestimated the time needed to get all the ingredients mixed up and the cake baked. The base is about done, but the other two layers for the ship will need about 20 more minutes. Would you mind keeping an eye on them while I work some more on getting the fondant ready? I need to get started on some preliminary work for the ocean waves."

Emmett nodded. "Sure thing," he told his friend. "I'll give you a yell when the base is done, so you can help me take it out. And then I'll keep an eye on the other two parts of the cake so they don't get burned."

"Thanks, Em," Justin told him, as he wiped his hands on his _Cakes of Art _apron. The clothing he had designed for their use while they were competing had been a real hit with several of the other teams, as well as with Winslow; he had complimented Emmett on them during the interview, and both he and Emmett had received several requests for business cards during the two 15-minute breaks they had been allowed to take this afternoon. He was glad they were generating so much interest; the exposure for their business was going to be invaluable, along with the any prize they hopefully will capture when the competition was over. And Emmett's interview for nationwide television would also help them to generate new business. Justin had been asked to appear for an interview as well, but so far he had managed to politely decline; he wanted to concentrate, instead, on working on his creation. The somewhat annoying three-ring circus that occurred at the same time during the competition would just have to wait until he was more confident he would have sufficient time to finish his design and have it ready by Friday evening.

He left his partner who was keeping watch over the browning cake layers to return to their design and decorating counter; each design team was furnished with two, long, rectangular-shaped tables to be used for preparing their creation and whatever else was needed for their cake. He had spread out all the edible material he would need to begin constructing the elements of his main feature, which would be a replica of a classic pirate ship on the high seas. The most difficult part of the entire project would no doubt be the rocking motion he wanted to generate for the ship, which would be resting on the base support modeled to resemble the blustery waves of the ocean. He decided, therefore, to first prepare the ingredients, mainly the fondant, he would need for the water.

He was about to pick up a cutting tool for his initial design when he heard the nearby voice of their emcee approaching; mentally cringing inside from the intrusion, he tried to successfully plaster a sincere-looking expression on his face before the man threw that damned microphone in his face and he appeared live in front of the expo's audience; no doubt he would be making a repeat performance later this evening via tape delay on national television. He had hoped to be spared this interruption, but he knew it was ultimately inevitable as part of his participation. He decided, then, it was best to get it out the way early so he could return to concentrating on what he needed to do.

"Mr. Taylor? I'm Paul Winslow from the _Culinary Channel_," the blond-haired, surfer-type man said smoothly. Justin awkwardly wiped his flour-coated hands on his apron briefly before he shook the hand the other man extended and smiled slightly. "I understand you're the youngest contestant in our competition, and this is your very first contest in cake designing; does that make you feel intimidated at all?" The man obnoxiously thrust the microphone in Justin's face as the studio's bright, overhead lights shone down on him from above. He thought briefly about telling the man sternly that his _behavior_ was making him intimidated as hell, but decided instead that the diplomatic approach would be the most productive one for his goal. "It's a little nerve-wracking," he admitted softly. "But I'm confident that I can compete on the same scale as the other contestants. And my business partner is very supportive of my efforts, also." He smiled over gratefully at Emmett, who was studiously watching the cake layers baking; his friend really _was_ great at being his biggest advocate and cheerleader toward his success; Emmett's firm resolve in his talent was a big help to him and encouraged him to keep going. Emmett returned his smile and winked at him in response.

"I see," Winslow responded automatically; Justin had the distinct impression that the man really wasn't all that interested in what he said – he seemed like he was working on instinct. The man had probably been on television so much, he didn't remember half of what he said, or what the other person said, either. "My information indicates your team was assigned the adventure category…Do you want to give the viewers and studio audience any hint as to what design you're working on?" the host asked. Justin noticed to his annoyance that the overly-suave chef was trying hard to peer over at his sketches, no doubt in hopes of discerning what his design entailed. "No," Justin answered simply. "I'd rather keep it as a surprise for now, if you don't mind." Enough of the diplomacy, he decided…..at the moment, he merely wanted to get back to work and keep on schedule.

The other man seemed a little flummoxed by Justin's rejection of his request. "Uh….well…..okay. We'll be checking back with the youngest competitor throughout the contest this week," Winslow announced to the camera, as he turned away from an extremely relieved Justin. "While the _Cakes of Art_ team from Pittsburgh continues to work on their design, then, let's visit with the British team, _Scrumptious Buns_." Justin heard the host chuckle as he slowly moved away. "You've got to love that name huh?" he heard the man say as he thankfully moved on to another "victim."

"Thank God," Justin muttered to Emmett as his friend walked closer to him and leaned down to watch him working on the decorations for the cake's base layer. "That man is annoying as hell."

Emmett smirked. "Yeah….I must admit, as hot as he looks, he looked a lot more attractive from a distance. Once he started talking, he became a lot _less _attractive." He nodded over toward the main oven. "The timer's got less than a minute left on the base layer – you want to come over and help me take it out?"

Justin nodded as he rose from his chair to follow his friend back over to the oven. Satisfied by a cursory glance through the window that the layer was baked to his approval, he opened the door with a couple of heavy-duty pot holders and managed with his friend's help to remove the large, rectangular-shaped layer and transfer it to a wooden cooling rack nearby.

"Well, that's one layer out and ready to prepare," Justin told his friend. "How much longer on the others?"

"About 5 more minutes," Emmett told him.

"Good," Justin told him, glancing over the large red numerals of the countdown clock nearby. "There's only 15 minutes left for today." He couldn't believe almost five hours had elapsed already; where had the time gone? At least he had accomplished pretty much what he needed to for the first day and kept on schedule, he thought with just a hint of pride. Yes, he _could_ keep up with the others after all.

"Em, can you go get the cake cover so we can cover the base layer? That way, we'll have just enough time to remove the other two layers and get them covered, too, before our time's up for today." He had read over the contest's rules closely before coming, and knew that they had to be done exactly by the allotted time each day; no matter where they stood, when the time was up, all the contestants had to immediately stop what they were doing. He definitely didn't want to be caught in the middle of something important when his time ran out for the day, and covering their cake for the night was crucial. He had been worried after Em had warned him about the cutthroat nature of the competition that someone might actually try to sabotage his work – after all, someone how _already_ apparently tried to go to the trouble of bribing one of the judges – but he was assured by one of the security personnel that each team's work would be diligently patrolled throughout the night to ensure no one entered the working arena during their absence.

_

* * *

_

15 Minutes Later

"Time's up! Everyone put down your work! Day 1 of the _Wedding Cake Wars _is now history! Let's give all our competitors a hearty round of applause, Ladies and Gentlemen!" The live studio audience erupted in appreciative applause as the teams of competitors, in various stages of completion, placed their work down and stood near their respective kitchens.

As Paul Winslow smiled broadly into the camera, he added, "We will certainly be in for some exciting action tomorrow, everyone! For Day 2 we will be revealing each team's respective theme and see their designs begin to take shape! You don't want to miss one second of the action! Be sure to come back tomorrow at noon for the next stage of this international competition! Until then, this is Paul Winslow with the _Culinary Channel!_ Good evening, everyone, and happy cooking!"

As soon as the director of the show shouted out "cut," Justin noticed the smooth-talking man's demeanor changed substantially from one of feigned excited interest to more of a tired, haggard-looking expression of aggravation. "Get this damned mike off me NOW!" he heard the man shout at his assistant, who hurried to comply.

Justin felt his friend place a hand on his shoulder as Emmett huffed, "Another delusion shattered. You were right, Baby – the man's just another well-dressed _asshole_." He sighed in resignation. "I think I need a good, stiff Cosmo….care to join me in a little session of getting sloshed at the lobby bar?"

Justin laughed softly. "Sounds tempting, Em, but I think I'll pass. I'm so tired right now, I think I'd fall asleep in my Beam. I just want to go home and collapse for a while – do you mind? I can grab a bus home; why don't you stay and bask in your celebrity at the bar and take our van home later?"

"You sure, Justin?" Em asked him. He really _did_ want to walk around for a while; deep down, he was kind of hoping someone _would_ recognize from being on television and engage him in a little bit of "idol worshipping," hopefully someone hot and gay. He figured the bar would be the most hopeful location for that possibility.

Justin nodded. "I'm sure," he told his friend, smiling. "I'm beat. You stay and I'll see you around 11:00 tomorrow morning, okay?"

Emmett smiled. "Well, if you're _sure_…." He twirled around a little as he took off his cap and apron to drape them over a nearby chair of their kitchen. "I'll just be down at the bar, then, socializing with my _fans."_ He gave his friend a brief wave as he almost skipped off the stage toward the bar as Justin watched him in amusement. He was thankful that no matter how difficult or stressful the situation may be, his friend could always lift his spirits with his childlike enthusiasm for life.

Justin discarded his apron and cap as well, placing them on top of his friend's, as he brushed the hair back from his face. After an afternoon of being exposed to the typical messy ingredients of his cake preparations, along with the sights and sounds that had accompanied the television competition, he was both physically and mentally exhausted. He wanted nothing more at the moment than to go home, take a long shower, and collapse on his bed immediately thereafter until well into the next morning. His stomach growled just then, reminding him that he hadn't even eaten lunch today; he supposed he would also need to grab something to eat on the way home as well.

As he slowly shuffled toward the side of the stage, his actions did not go unnoticed by someone closely observing his every step. His downward, tired glance toward the floor as he walked did not allow him, however, to notice this fact until he began to walk down the steps and finally looked up into the studious gaze of his onlooker, who was blessing his good fortune that Justin had chosen this path to depart from the auditorium.

"What's cookin', _Doughboy_?"

His heart leapt to his throat and his stomach did abrupt flip-flops at the instantly familiar sound of that voice, the voice that belonged to the man he had been constantly dreaming about since he had met him not so long ago.

Justin sighed; would he ever stop reacting so strongly to this man? "Brian," he said tiredly as he tried to walk past the other man. "I thought you would have left by now. What do you _want_? Don't tell me you're still here on business." As he tried to bypass the brunet, however, Brian was too fast for him in his exhausted state. He unexpectedly swayed on his feet when a wave of dizziness suddenly accosted him, as he found a firm hand instantly planted on his upper arm.

"You okay?" Brian asked him, concern evident in his voice. He urgently wanted to speak with Justin, but was startled by the other man's sudden adverse reaction.

Justin, however, was trying not to be affected by Brian's attempt at chivalry. "I'm _fine, Mr. Kinney_," he maintained, trying to revert back to a more formal approach. "I'm just tired. Leave me alone."

Brian, however, had already noticed Justin's business partner leaving him and heading toward the bar; he was perceptive enough to realize that while Honeycutt apparently had gone off in hopes of basking in his temporary celebrity glory, Justin, on the other hand, was in no shape to do so. "Let me take you home," he offered hopefully, as he continued to hold onto the other man's arm.

"I don't _need your help_!" Justin retorted loudly. "Leave me alone! I'm _fine_!" he argued, as he futilely tried to wrestle his arm away from the brunet.

Brian smirked as Justin again swayed slightly on his feet. "Yeah, you look just _dandy_," he countered. "You're fucking dead on your feet, _Doughboy_. Get off your high horse and let me take you home," he said softly. _Damn the other man's stubborn pride_. As Justin looked at him skeptically, he added, "That's _all_….promise. Come on – let me drive you home." He hesitated for a couple of seconds before imploring more softly this time, "_Please."_

As Justin slowly raised his head to look into the soft hazel eyes of the brunet, he realized his contention to himself that he had been able to keep Brian out of his mind was a total farce. If he was truthful with himself, he knew he could never get Brian out of his head – or his _heart_. Despite what the man had done to him, he still cared about him. _Damn it_, he swore to himself. He could feel Brian's fingers slowly caressing his upper arm as he waited for him to answer. Even if he _wanted_ to refuse Brian's offer, he honestly didn't think he had the physical fortitude to walk to the bus to catch it; he WAS exhausted. He had hardly slept a wink last night worrying about the first day of the competition, and the reality of the excitement, lack of sleep and hard work was quickly catching up with him. And who was he kidding? Even if he _could_ walk himself to the bus, he really didn't _want to_. He wanted something else – _Brian_. He just wasn't ready to admit that to the other man, though; Brian needed to so some serious groveling first. Perhaps this would be a start – there had to be SOME reason why Brian had stayed at the Expo Center all day – both he and Brian knew that excuse was total bullshit.

He let out a deep breath in resignation as he peered into the intent hazel eyes of the other man's before he quietly whispered only one word, but it was enough for now to Brian's hopeful heart. "Okay."

So little said but so much anticipated in that one little word, Brian finally smiled and nodded as, encouraged, he slowly wound his arm around Justin's shoulders and quietly led him from the audience area. As he relished in the feel of the soft, warm body cocooned under his arm, his thoughts were focused on what might turn out to be the most important conversation he had ever had. _Don't fuck it up this time, Kinney_, he warned himself. _Make it RIGHT this time._


	24. Chapter 24: Heart to Heart

In the quickly-darkening, inky blackness of the moonless night, Brian took advantage of the luxury afforded him by occasional street lights to steal frequent glances over at his passenger, whose head was tilted at an angle toward him, the blue eyes closed in exhaustion from the day's events. Remembering Justin's hectic schedule of before, as well as his companion's tendency to participate full-speed into everything he did, Brian wasn't surprised at all that his little Doughboy was exhausted by the day's activities. He had a feeling that Justin hadn't gotten much sleep at all last night in contemplation of the contest today. That, coupled with the physical requirements of simply carting all of his supplies over to the stage for the competition, and running at breakneck speed all day long getting ready for Day 2 tomorrow, had to have worn Justin out. Just the fact that the man had agreed to let him drive him _home_ would have told him that. Right now, though, he didn't care why Justin had agreed to it; he was simply thankful that he _had_.

He had meant what he had told him, though; he wasn't going to pressure him into anything, although his body was aching to hold him again, to kiss those lush pink lips, and to fuck him senseless. That hadn't changed during the time they had been apart, unless it had gotten stronger. His feelings for Justin hadn't changed, either, despite his mock bravado and boasting at the diner in front of his friends. He winced at the recollection of how much he had hurt this man sitting silently next to him, trusting him to keep his word.

If he didn't accomplish anything else in his lifetime, he at least would see to it that before this was all over with, Justin would understand how much he meant to him. The deep, unexpected feelings he felt for this man still scared the shit out of him, but at the same time, it also _exhilarated_ him. He vowed to make sure that Justin realized this as soon as he had a chance to explain to him why he had done what he had done. That was, if he could begin to explain it to himself; he still wasn't sure why he had done it. What had he been thinking? Would it be so bad to love someone in addition to his son?

He loved Gus deeply, of that he had no doubt. Neither did anyone else, despite what _other_ scathing, non-flattering words they may think of to use in describing him. If he could love Gus, that must mean he had the capacity to love a partner, too; someone who could care for and support him as well. He glanced over thoughtfully at the incredibly talented man sitting next to him, now snoring softly, his head leaning into his shoulder; the man who had constantly invaded his dreams and daytime thoughts for the past several days. Was he the _one_? Was he the man who could finally break through the Kinney shell of bravado and indifference to find the real, caring man underneath?

He had to admit – Justin had certainly caused him to feel things he never thought he could feel before for any man – warmth, gentleness, even a softness, at least when it came to _this _man. And he had been attracted from the start by Justin's ability to stand up to him, by his passion for his art and his friends, and by his creativity. In some ways, more than he might have thought, they were more alike than he would have ever imagined initially. Now that he had gotten to know the blond dynamo sitting next to him even better, however, he knew his life would never be the same. And truthfully, he couldn't imagine his life now without Justin IN it. How, though, was he going to convince _him _of that?

As he drove toward Justin's apartment, he noticed to his disappointment that they would be arriving there soon. He had promised Justin he was simply going to drive him home, nothing more. Would it be too much to hope, though, that Justin would at least allow him to try and explain his actions of the other day before he left? He was so anxious to right his wrong with him and clear the air. He missed seeing – and holding Justin – terribly. Again, though, he questioned if this was the right time; Justin was currently in the midst of quite possibly the most important event of his young life, one that Brian had no doubt he could win if he put his mind – and considerable talents – to it. Was it right to complicate matters right now, then, by trying to resolve their differences? No matter how much he yearned to, he wondered if he was being selfish by even contemplating it.

As he stopped at a red light, he couldn't help taking advantage of the moment to slowly reach his right hand over and gently push some soft, golden hair back from Justin's forehead where it had fallen haphazardly over his eyes. _God, you are SO beautiful_, he couldn't help thinking as a lump mysteriously formed in his throat. _What this man could do to him_.

Not for the first time, he marveled at the emotions this man caused to well up inside him in a moment's notice; tender emotions that, except for his son, he never, ever experienced before for anyone else. That alone was proof enough to him of his deep feelings for this man. Now all he had to do was find a way to prove it to _Justin_.

As Brian pondered his best course of action, his passenger, unbeknownst to him, was dreaming of recent events, events that all involved an incredibly sexy, bullheaded, sometimes arrogant but also occasionally playful, even gentle enigma of a man; a man that, despite his better judgment, was uppermost in his thoughts and dreams on a daily basis. Just what was it about this man that caused him to forgo his common sense and be attracted to him, even care for him? Why now, even after all the pain the man had caused him, and all the careful admonitions from Emmett, his best friend and partner, did he still want, even _need_ him? Why? Why?

The question kept reverberating in his head repeatedly until he was unexpectedly roused from his slumber by a light caress, almost a breath of wind, on his forehead. He slowly opened his eyes to peer over at the object of his dreams, as well as constant waking thoughts – _Brian_. In a flash, his face tinged a slight shade of pink as he realized what he had done – in a moment of tired, exhausted weakness, he had allowed Brian to drive him home from the competition. Was he _insane? _Did he enjoy playing with _fire_? Because that was exactly what it was – he was playing with the most dangerous, hottest flame of them all, and his heart was fucking blazing with need and desire for this man, even now, even after what he had done to him, even after he had hurt him and broken his heart into a million tiny pieces.

His heart skipped a beat as Brian turned his face at that moment to peer over at him with an intense look of, what? Curiosity? Indifference? No, even HE could tell it was more than that – it was more like regret, maybe? Guilt? Or was it simply wishful thinking on his part? As he stared back at the brunet, he knew in his heart that he certainly hoped not. Was he willing, though, to open his tender heart back up again only to possibly have it trampled upon just like before? Would Brian do that again at the first challenge of his feelings toward him by his friends? Or would he actually admit that he _cared_ for him? Was Justin willing to take that chance? In his mentally as well as physically exhausted state, he wasn't sure.

"Hey," Brian said softly with a tender smile. His heart had leapt as he glanced back over at his Doughboy to find a pair of sleepy blue eyes gazing back at him questioningly. "We're almost there," Brian told him with just a tinge of regret; he had been hoping to prolong having to say goodbye to Justin for as long as possible, but now their separation was unfortunately imminent now. His need to right things with Justin was warring inside him against his desire to not complicate things further for the blond, who needed to reserve his energy and devote his attention to the final two days of the cake design competition.

As Justin stared back at him silently, still half-asleep, he simply nodded that he understood, not trusting his voice at the moment to say anything aloud, too afraid that his emotions would immediately rise to the surface and give away the fact that he still cared for this man and yes, still _wanted_ him, despite everything that had happened. He wasn't really sure, anyway, what he wanted to say to Brian, now that they were finally alone for the first time since the hurtful incident at the diner and Brian's unsuccessful attempt to talk to him at the bus stop. Besides, his scarred pride still reminded him that it wasn't HIS fault that they had parted; HE wasn't the one that had to try and explain his actions, or try and apologize. Both of them knew exactly whose job that was, and he most certainly felt it wasn't HIS.

Brian sighed silently; this wasn't going to be easy, no matter _when_ he did it. Justin apparently wasn't going to give him any slack, not that he deserved it. But he had already beaten himself up more than enough for the both of them; he definitely knew he had blown it the other day and it would take some major groveling to make things right again, if that was even possible.

As he reluctantly slowed down the 'Vette to come to a stop in front of Justin's nondescript but neatly kept brick apartment house, he took a small breath to compose himself before turning off the motor. The silence, permeated now by only the night sounds of crickets nearby, awkwardly enveloped the two occupants of the vehicle as Brian struggled to form the right words; he desperately wanted to wave a magic wand that would instantly wipe away all of the painful events of the past few days, but he knew that wasn't possible. It was all up to him, now; it was up to him to find a way to right this wrong and win the heart of his Doughboy back again. Because until he did, his own heart would remain broken and empty.

"Justin….." he began tentatively, still not quite sure what he was going to say to the other man.

Justin pushed himself upright into his seat before holding up his hand in a silent sign for the other man to stop. "Don't, Brian," he pleaded with him. "Don't say it, not now."

"But…."

"No," Justin said more firmly this time; he breathed out a weary sigh. "I'm so tired, Brian. All I want to do right now is fall into bed….._alone_." That was a lie, though, and he knew it; as he sat so close to the other man's hauntingly-familiar body, and smelled the unique, masculine mixture of expensive cologne, cigarettes, top-brand liquor and something indescribable that was simply _Brian, _he could almost feel himself physically aching for this man's touch again.

But he owed it to both himself and to Emmett to concentrate on the task at hand right now; as much as he wanted to try and make up with Brian – lord knows why – he _also_ knew he didn't need the complication right now. Perhaps when this was all over with, he could try again with him. He knew he definitely _wanted_ to.

Brian bit back a sting of bitter disappointment at Justin's declaration about wanting to be alone; he knew there was a possibility this would happen, and he wasn't even sure if this was the right time, but now that Justin had virtually shut the door again, at least for _now_, he felt a severe tinge of frustration and distress over the roadblock his heart's desire had just thrust at him. He was hoping he would at least get a chance to begin to rectify what he had inflicted on this man. But as much as it pained him, for now he had no choice but to abide by Justin's wishes, as much as he fucking _hated it_.

He watched with regret as Justin gave him a slight nod before he unlatched his seatbelt and slowly, almost painfully, emerged from the 'Vette. He noticed the blond hesitating in apparent indecision for a few seconds until, his heart beating rapidly, he watched as Justin stiffly walked around the back of the car and approached the driver's side door, pausing for a few seconds to reach his hands above his head to stretch out his back and ease some of the tiredness from his shoulders.

Brian couldn't keep his eyes off the lithe, slender figure that was, unbeknownst to him, making the brunet almost physically ill with need. As Brian slowly turned to peer up at the blue eyes intently gazing into him now, almost searing him to his very soul, Justin nodded slightly at him for just a brief moment and whispered "TUh...Thank you for driving me home."

Before Justin had a chance to turn around and leave, though, Brian quickly reached out and gently placed his hand on his arm to stop him; he was immensely relieved to notice that the blond didn't try to shrug off his overture but simply stood near the car silently in mute expectation. "Justin….wait. I won't stop you," he assured him. He knew the blond was dead on his feet and needed every bit of rest he could get before he had to demonstrate his creative mastery all over again tomorrow at the Expo Center.

"But when this is all over with, will you finally _talk_ to me? Please?" He added. He never begged before – after all, he was _Brian Kinney_, damn it – but he had never really had such a vital _reason_ to before, either; at least, not such an important reason as this. His voice sounded even pitiful to his _own_ ears as he almost pleaded with his Doughboy to acquiesce. If he could just get Justin to agree to talk to him, that would be a promising start. All the rest would hopefully fall into place after that, at least if he had _his _way. "Justin?" he said again softly, his eyes boring into the other man's.

Justin peered back at the other man's hazel eyes, the ones that had recently taken him from the very apex of ecstatic euphoria to the lowest depths of despair in such a relatively short period of time. What was showing in those eyes _now_? Was it regret, pain…sincerity? There was an odd inflection to his voice, which almost sounded desperate somehow. Did Brian truly regret what he had done? Again, Justin wondered just why Brian had been at the center today.

Justin leaned down to rest his elbows on Brian's driver's side door, his face merely inches from the other man's. _Watch it, Taylor…..Don't play with fire, remember? Especially THIS particular brand of fire._

"Brian?" he couldn't help asking, nevertheless, despite his internal warning to himself to tread carefully. "Tell me the truth…why exactly were you at the Expo Center today? And don't tell me you were there all day because of business, because that's bullshit and you know it; no one spends several hours at a bridal expo because of business, even if you ARE in advertising, especially if you have all kinds of flunkies to take care of the mundane stuff. I want to know the truth…..WHY were you there?"

Brian began to turn his face away from the blond, afraid to look him in the eyes and tell him the truth. Didn't Justin understand how difficult this was for him? This whole experience with this man, his feelings for him, was so alien to him, so _unlike_ him. HE wasn't even sure he quite understood it; how could he explain it to Justin and admit what he means to him? On the other hand, if he _didn't_, he definitely risked losing him, and that was a chance he dare not take.

Brian's hopes of evading Justin's question, however, were dashed as he felt a soft, warm hand grasp his chin with surprising strength and turn his head toward the open window. Brian couldn't help staring into those pools of deep blue; he was so close to Justin's face, he could feel the man's soft breath escaping the lips he fervently wanted to kiss senseless at that exact moment. How he avoided doing just that, he didn't know; perhaps it had to do with the no-nonsense look Justin was presently giving him.

"Answer me, Brian," Justin urged him sternly. "I deserve an honest answer."

Brian couldn't avoid the probing, ice-blue eyes that were staring back at him intently. "I thought you said you were tired and wanted to go to bed," Brian countered, trying to deflect the question by taking the offensive. _I want to go to bed, too, Doughboy….with YOU_, was the thought that rose to his mind instinctively. How he had missed this fiery dynamo of a man….

Justin, however, was NOT to be dissuaded from his goal; it was time to dig the truth out of this man, once and for all; he was getting tired of all the mixed signals. "I _am_," he verified. "But I _also_ need an answer to my question. Tell me, Brian…I NEED to know." Despite his weariness – and God knew he _was_, both mentally as well as physically, he found himself emboldened by his quest to get the truth out of this stubborn man.

Brian tried one last attempt at hiding the truth, but his resolve was quickly fading into obscurity the longer he was forced to stare into those mesmerizing blue eyes. "I _did _have business at the Expo Center, Doughboy," he argued defensively. "You're certainly not an expert when it comes to advertising, OR what's involved in it; otherwise, you wouldn't have needed my help before. Why don't you just keep your head in your cake batter and let ME worry about my own job?" His voice came out sharper than he had intended, because he knew Justin was coming perilously close to learning the truth about his feelings for him, and it unnerved the fucking _hell_ out of him.

Justin shook his head slightly and looked heavenward in frustration. How many more times were he and Brian going to dance around this subject? He had pretty much reached his limit, and he just couldn't deal with being Brian's surrogate psychiatrist any longer.

Brian frowned as he felt the warm hand he had practically been drowning in abruptly gone; as he looked up now at Justin, he saw the blond swallow and his eyes inexplicably fill with tears. "Okay, Brian," Justin said softly; the fight in his voice had disappeared to be replaced now by what sounded like extreme sadness and disappointment. "Don't worry…..You're the _pro_. I'll take your advice and worry about MYSELF from now on. I won't ask for your help anymore." He pursed his lips tightly together as he turned to walk toward the front steps of his apartment duplex. _I won't cry in front of this man – I won't give him the POWER to do that to me….._

_Damn It. _Brian sighed heavily as he watched Justin slowly walk away, his shoulders sagging in pain and disillusion – feelings that Brian had generated in him. He cursed himself silently. _So what's it going to BE, Kinney? Are you going to let the best thing that ever happened to you just give up and walk out of your life? Just how strong ARE you, big man?_

He was out of the car before he realized he had opened the door; his long legs were no match for the slender man walking away from him for what he no doubt thought was the last time.

Justin was almost to his front door when, to his shock, he felt a strong hand grip his upper arm and turn him around, finding himself facing the man he had just abandoned at the curb.

"What do you _want_, Brian?" Justin asked him warily; he was so weary, so _fucking_ weary of everything right now. He didn't even have the strength to insist Brian remove his hand from his upper arm; on the contrary, Brian apparently viewed that as a signal to put his _other_ hand on Justin's chin to gently force his gaze upward to meet his.

"You didn't let me finish, Doughboy," he said softly; Justin noticed to his surprise that there was a distinct tenderness in the voice now, the same type of tone he had witnessed Brian using with his son the other day.

"It sounded like you were _finished_ to ME," Justin argued, his voice sounding less than convincing to his own ears. "What more is there to say?" Justin tried hard to avert his eyes from the other man's pointed gaze, but as he tried to turn his head he found it anchored rigidly in place. He bit his lip in consternation as he glanced once more at the hazel eyes that were flashing with, what? Determination? Impatience? Anger? He couldn't quite tell.

"Justin," Brian began. He shook his head, surprised at himself that when it came to _this_ man, he always seemed to fuck things up. "Shit – why is this so _hard_?" he lamented, not sure if he was addressing the question to Justin or to himself. He quickly looked around in the relative darkness to make sure they were alone; the front stoop of Justin's apartment complex wasn't the most optimal place to have a discussion, but he was afraid if he let him go, the blond would turn around, slam the door in his face and never speak to him again; he simply couldn't take that chance. He wanted to have this discussion in private; for now, this somewhat awkward spot would have to suffice.

He dropped his hands from the blond's arms and rubbed one of his own through his hair in frustration. "Justin," he repeated. "That's not what I meant to say at ALL. And the other day at the diner – that's _definitely_ not what I wanted to say, what I SHOULD have said." He licked his lips nervously; he never had this trouble talking to anyone before; why was it so hard now? Maybe because no other man ever _meant_ so much before.

Justin huffed out a breath of annoyance. "Just fucking _SAY_ what you have to say, Brian. I'm getting so tired of trying to read your damn mind."

Brian sighed; Justin was _right_. Time to put up or shut up; his Doughboy always did have a way of cutting to the chase – he would have expected nothing less. "I…really do _care_ about you, Justin," he said softly. "You mean much more to me than just a one-night fuck." He continued in a almost whisper, "You could _never_ be mistaken for that."

Justin's heart warmed cautiously at the words he had been longing to hear for so long, but could he really _believe_ them? Which was the REAL Brian Kinney – this man almost humbly standing in front of him, looking downright uncomfortable wearing his heart on his sleeve, or the brash, cocky man who had bragged about their exploits at the diner the other day, so full of arrogance? He knew which one he _wanted_ him to be, but he had to be sure this time. He couldn't go down this road again and risk having his heart torn out of his chest. "How can I be _sure _of that, Brian?" he asked. "Huh?"

Brian fidgeted restlessly on his feet, not used to being subjected to such a pointed analysis. "This is all new to me, Doughboy," he said softly; the blond noticed that Brian's normal sense of swagger and devil-may-care attitude was missing now, replaced by a look that actually seemed to convey sincerity, even though by the look on his face, Brian was obviously not very accustomed to having to be so upfront with his feelings. Could that mean, though, that maybe Brian really was being _honest_ with him for a change?

"I'm not sure how I can convince you," he continued, letting out an uneasy sort of sigh. He brushed his hand again through his now tousled hair nervously as his eyes locked on the blue orbs peering back at him warily; the diffuse, dim light shone through the frosted glass of the complex's lobby inside. "I've…never _felt _like this with anyone else before. Fuck," he muttered. He had _never _stumbled through a conversation like the one he was presently having with _this _man. "Don't you _understand? _It's YOU," he added lamely.

Justin snorted, incredulous. "ME? _I'M_ the reason why you can't say what you _mean_? It's MY fault?"

Brian shook his head vigorously. "Yes…..No, I mean…SHIT!" He couldn't believe it – he felt like some awkward teenage girl on her first date, wondering if the boy she was with was going to kiss her goodnight or not. What was it about this man that made him _feel_ this way?

Justin looked over him in confusion. He had never seen Brian stumble through a conversation the way he was now. Some type of inner strength infused him as he slowly walked closer to the other man and said softly, "Just _talk_ to me, Brian. I want to know the _truth_. What do you _want_ from me? From US?" He held his breath in anxious anticipation as he heard the soft, ragged puffs of air coming from the brunet's lungs, the only sound he could hear in the still, inky night.

Brian took a deep breath; he was standing so close to Justin now that he could almost feel his body heat; he _could_ smell the other man's shampoo – sweet and unique, just like his own little Doughboy smelled when they had lain in each other's arms that morning after fucking and making love practically all night long. "I…..," he swallowed hard, trying to gain the courage to say what was in his heart. "I want to _be_ with you, Justin. I want to get to _know_ you, what your _passions_ are, what your _dreams_ are. I want to make you happy….._I_ want to be happy."

He curled his lips under like a little boy, in that way that always crept into Justin's heart unannounced as he confessed, "I have NO idea why I said what I said at the diner. Except for Gus, I've never really allowed anyone else to affect me; not until _you_ showed up at that damned store," he said, twisting his mouth wryly. "I guess I was protecting my fucking reputation, in more ways than way," he said self-consciously. "I didn't want anyone to know the _great Brian Kinney_ actually had a fucking heart. Maybe _I_ didn't even know it…..until you _proved _it to me," he said, almost too softly for Justin to hear.

From the light that was now shining hopefully in his eyes, however, it was apparent that Justin _HAD _heard. "You really _mean_ that, Brian?" Justin asked him, tentatively reaching out his hand toward the other man.

Brian instantly reached out to capture the seeking hand, curling his fingers tenderly around the other man's pale wrist. "Yes," Brian told him softly but firmly. "I _really_ do." He smirked. "Imagine that," he added as he slowly pulled Justin toward his eager arms; he wanted to hold him so badly, but he was so afraid that Justin would still somehow rebuff his advances.

Justin hesitated for a few seconds, as if he were trying to make up his mind. His eyes locked on the hazel ones as if to say, _you'd BETTER fucking mean that, Kinney_, before he almost melted against the other man's body; he thought he heard Brian let out what sounded like a sigh of contentment and fulfillment. As Justin felt the other man's arms slowly enfold him protectively in his embrace, he had to admit it felt like _heaven_. It felt like he was _home_ again. It felt…right…_safe_.

As he wrapped his own arms around Brian's waist, he felt Brian rest his head on top of his as he rocked them slightly back and forth for a few seconds in silent companionship. "Justin," he heard the other man say softly, the brunet's lips tickling the top of his head as he felt the vibration; it was just one word, but the emotion carried in that single utterance was enormous.

As they finally parted slightly, Brian released his Doughboy just enough to be able to stare deeply into the blue eyes that at last reflected relief and happiness instead of pain; pain that HE had caused.

"Stop that," he heard the admonishment.

Brian placed his hands on either side of Justin's head and murmured softly, "Stop _what_, Doughboy?"

"Stop beating yourself up on what's in the past," he was told sternly, as if the other man could read his mind. Maybe in a way he _could_. "I want us to move _forward_ now."

"Good," Brian told him, smiling at him tenderly. "Because I don't intend to _ever_ stop caring about you." _Maybe even LOVING you, Doughboy….But I won't tell YOU that…..at least not just YET._ Brian then did what he had been longing to do for days now; he slowly pulled the other man's face toward his until their lips were almost touching. For a few seconds, he relished the feel of having this special man back in his arms again before he gently, almost reverently, pressed his lips to Justin's. After a few seconds of gliding his lips teasingly against the other mouth, he at last was rewarded by the lips opening in invitation of a deeper exploration.

He moaned in exquisite pleasure as the two of them once again began their sweet duel of passion, Brian's hands possessively cradling the blond head to angle it for a more intense journey. He felt Justin's arms roaming all over his back gently; as their kiss continued, however, Brian knew if they didn't stop soon, he would pick his passionate little Doughboy up, carry him up the stairs, and fuck him senseless until well past daylight. He knew, unfortunately though, that Justin was exhausted by everything that had happened in the past several hours and desperately needed rest for Day 2 of his challenge at the Expo Center tomorrow.

It was with great reluctance, then, that he gently broke off their kiss at last; as he desperately tried to catch his breath, he noticed with some sense of satisfaction that Justin was trying to do the same. His thumbs caressed the other man's pale cheeks as he gently scolded him, "You need some rest, Doughboy…..We can _continue_ this tomorrow, as much as I fucking hate the idea of leaving you right now." The intense, lust-filled stare he was giving Justin left no doubt as to his sincerity as he noticed the blond blushing slightly at the fixed scrutiny and sexy drawl of his voice. He meant ever word of it, too…..

Justin grimaced. "You're right," he said grudgingly, as he tried to stifle a huge yawn that suddenly appeared right on cue. He smiled apologetically. "I _am_ exhausted," he admitted softly, never taking his eyes off Brian as he spoke. Now that the two of them had cleared the air, he hated so badly to see the man leave; thoughts of waking up to the brunet in his bed after a long night of fucking and making love made his body hum, but he knew it wouldn't a good idea right now. He owed it to himself and to Emmett to be on his best game tomorrow, and he was anxious to try out his unorthodox design idea at the competition tomorrow. Day 2 would be the beginning of his actual creation, and he was looking forward to seeing it take shape.

"Will you be there tomorrow?" he asked the other man hopefully; he knew he sounded like a desperate little boy attending his first day of kindergarten, but he couldn't help it. He didn't realize until just now how important it was to him that Brian be there to encourage him and fill him with all kinds of delicious thoughts as to what he might be doing after the competition was over.

Brian smiled back at him before leaning down and kissing him again briefly on the lips. "I wouldn't _miss_ it, Doughboy," he assured him. "I've never fucked a real-live cake design winner before."

Justin snorted. "Well, if I don't go upstairs and get some sleep tonight, you won't get the _chance_," he quipped.

Brian laughed softly this time, so relieved that at last things were right again between them. "Okay. As long as you promise me after it's over I'll be the first one to _lick your icing_."

Justin blushed an even deeper shade of pink then; he felt so juvenile at his body's involuntary reaction, but Brian thought it was downright _endearing_.

The brunet couldn't help stealing one more quick kiss on the lips before he reluctantly backed away slightly to allow Justin to pull his keys out for the front door. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Justin asked him, just before he turned the door knob to enter. His voice came out slightly higher than normal, betraying his hopeful anxiety. _So much for sounding nonchalant_, he thought wryly.

Brian drunk in the sight of him intently before smiling reassuringly at him. "_Dimetrodons _couldn't keep me away," he said, as Justin laughed softly at his remark. He stood there, watching, as Justin finally nodded, opened the door, and disappeared quietly inside – out of sight but definitely never out of his _heart._


	25. Chapter 25: Day Two Begins

_Justin's Apartment – Ten Minutes Later_

Justin lay in bed, exhausted. His eyes were closed but he found himself unable to sleep. His mind was simply whirling with way too many vivid emotions and memories of the day's events to allow him to sleep, despite his urgent need to do so.

The most unforgettable part of his day, however, was the event that occurred _last_. He couldn't help smiling softly as thoughts of Brian floated back to him. Tonight, he had finally seen the tender, gentle side of Brian again that he had remembered from before when they had been together at his loft and the diner; the side that actually appeared genuine and heartfelt. Justin knew instinctively that it was a side rarely seen by others – except for him, he was certain the proud, self-assured man only allowed himself to be that open with his son – and it helped to partly explain Brian's actions the other day at the diner. What Brian had said had hurt – no question about that, and it still gave Justin a small degree of pain _still_ as he thought about it – but at least now he had an explanation for it, and Brian's words tonight rang strongly with the flavor of truth. Brian could have just let him walk away tonight, out of his life, if that was what he had really wanted. But he hadn't done that – he had come after him to explain his actions to him and try to make things right. Justin was so relieved and glad that he _had_. He hadn't realized how much the situation was weighing on his mind until he had felt the burden being lifted from his shoulders. Maybe now he could devote his attention fully to the second day of the competition tomorrow; something told him that the frantic pace and stress of today's start to the contest was just a preamble to what was to come.

The ringing of his cell phone startled him out of his jumbled thoughts as he groped in the darkness for the small object. He glanced over at the illuminated clock – _11:30 p.m._ He groaned slightly – he hadn't realized how late it was getting to be – he HAD to get some sleep or he would be in no shape tomorrow to compete the way he needed to. He hadn't realized how much time he had spent with Brian on the front stoop a little while ago. Who would be calling him _now? _He figured Emmett would have been in bed by now, but maybe he had found so many "fans" at the expo's bar downtown, he had stayed out later than he _should _have. He really needed his business partner wide awake and alert tomorrow, though; he was going to need his assistant for all types of duties regarding his rather complicated cake design that would be starting to take shape tomorrow.

"Hello?" he murmured sleepily as he flipped the phone open and brought it up to his mouth.

"Hey," came the soft drawl; Justin's heart instantly sped up at the familiar sound of that sexy, baritone voice.

"I could have sworn I just saw you a little while ago," Justin teased him softly. He couldn't imagine what Brian had forgotten to mention when he had seen him outside. What was so important, anyway, that it couldn't keep until tomorrow? "Did you forget something?"

As he drove home in the 'Vette, Brian smiled at the drowsy sound of his Doughboy's voice; he had warred with himself over calling Justin – he knew how exhausted he was – and he felt guilty about calling him, but he found that he couldn't _help _it; he had to hear his voice one more time…..

"No," Brian admitted quietly; Justin could tell by the sound of his voice that he didn't seem perturbed – or concerned – about anything, to his relief. His voice sounded a little odd, though – almost quieter than normal.

"I…..know you need to get some sleep," Brian continued. "Did I wake you?" he asked suddenly. _Shit – you idiot – What do YOU think? You probably woke him up….._

"No," Justin quickly assured him. "I was a little too wound up yet to go to sleep," he admitted to Brian's relief.

_Yeah….I know the feeling_, Brian thought. He had a feeling he wouldn't be getting to sleep too soon after HE got home, either….his mind would no doubt be too occupied by the wonderful blond he had just left on his front apartment stoop; the man he desperately wanted to have back in his OWN bed soon. Since the last – actually, the _only_ time they had been together, he corrected himself - he had found himself craving the man's body, lips and his touch again; hell, he wanted _all_ of him again – over and over. "I….just wanted to ask if you needed someone to pick you up tomorrow for the competition," Brian told him.

He figured Honeycutt would likely be picking Justin up, since they were competing together as a team, but he had to have _SOME _logical reason for calling Justin so soon after they had parted. He had _already_ blown his cover tonight as the non-caring, indifferent, _fuck-em-once and leave-em_ kind of man; it wouldn't do now to tell the blond that he had called simply because he wanted to hear his voice again.

Justin pondered why Brian was _really _calling; surely he knew Emmett would be picking him up in the morning. Too tired to really analyze the reason why, however, he just decided to count himself lucky that he yet another opportunity tonight to speak with the man who he constantly found himself thinking about. There would hopefully be other chances tomorrow to see him during his breaks at the competition, as he reminded himself that Brian had advised him he was planning on attending the entire session.

"Thanks for offering," Justin told him softly, finding himself disappointed that he couldn't take Brian up on his offer; he would have loved to have seen him again before the competition resumed – it probably would have done wonders for his self-confidence. "But Em's supposed to come and pick me up in the van around 11:00 tomorrow. He's got some of our additional supplies for my design in the van, anyway."

"Oh," Brian answered him; Justin thought _he_ possibly sounded disappointed, too, a fact that made him feel _happy_, actually; it was nice to know that Brian really _did_ want to see him again so soon.

"Yeah….that makes sense," Brian admitted. _Damn…I figured as much_. "Well, then….I'll guess I'll just see you at the Expo Center later. I think Gus and Lindsey are coming down again, too….Gus is really fascinated by all the commotion, and he should really get a kick out of what everyone designs tomorrow; as long as he doesn't try to come down on the stage and _eat_ it, too."

Justin chuckled, noticing again that whenever Brian talked about Gus, the tone of his voice was entirely different. His voice sounded not only tender, but also proud and more animated. Justin decided that anyone who loved his son as much as Brian did had a bigger heart than others realized; hopefully, Brian's heart was big enough to include _him_ as well.

"That's great," Justin told him sincerely. "I'll have my own special cheering section, then. It'll be nice to look out into the crowd and see some smiling faces for encouragement. I have a feeling I'll be nervous as hell tomorrow," he admitted a little self-consciously. He had been so caught up in learning the routine today that he hadn't really had time to understand the enormity of what he was involved in; he had a feeling that tomorrow it would all start to sink in. In fact, as he pondered that fact, his stomach suddenly felt like a flock of butterflies were flying around inside of it.

He heard Brian emit a type of indignant huff on the phone before he said, "You'll be fine, Doughboy," he insisted. "They won't fucking know what hit them," he added firmly. "Don't start doubting yourself, Justin….you're incredibly talented."

Justin flushed at the unexpected compliment, so rare coming from this man who routinely and expertly controlled a multi-million advertising business. His stomach still felt like it was tied into a thousand knots, but just the sound of the strong conviction pouring from Brian made him feel like maybe he _could_ just come out on top when the contest was over. "Thanks," he murmured. "That means a lot to me."

Brian smiled. _Score one for me_, he thought, although he _really _DID mean it. He had no doubt Justin could win. He suddenly realized how stupid it had been to even think about pushing the odds in Justin's favor; Justin didn't _need_ the extra help and he would have been furious if Brian had managed to pull off his subterfuge. He was thankful, therefore, that he hadn't succeeded. "Well….that's all I wanted," he said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow, then…...Later."

Justin smiled at the simple parting words. "Later," he whispered back as he slowly closed the phone. Sighing in anticipation of everything to come tomorrow, he lay back on the bed and, after several minutes more, finally managed to drift off to dream of a particularly enigmatic, passionate dark-haired man who continued to amaze and to a certain degree, mystify him.

_

* * *

_

Next Day – Mid-Morning

Justin sat on the front porch stoop, waiting somewhat anxiously for Emmett to arrive. It wasn't yet 11:00, but Justin was eager to get started. As soon as he had woken up this morning, he found himself sketching some quick changes to his design. They were minor, but ever since he had come up with the idea itself, his mind had been constantly analyzing every nuance of the design for any possible ways to make it even better.

As he grabbed a bowl of cereal this morning, a flash of inspiration had hit him and he had hurried to jot it down. He had even given Emmett a quick call, luckily catching him at the shop, to ask him to bring a couple of additional items with him that he would need for the minor revisions. Now that he felt confident that his design would indeed be transferrable to the actual cake, he was eager to get to the Expo Center and get started. He couldn't wait to see his design take shape, although he was still somewhat worried about the reaction he would get. He was fairly certain that this particular concept had never been done before, at least on a nationally-televised competition. As he had told his partner yesterday when he had showed it to him, he felt it was either going to be a big hit or he was going to fall flat on his face. Only time – and the judges' reaction to it – would tell which outcome would result.

He looked up from the walkway as a short toot sounded and Emmett pulled up to the curb with the van. Justin smirked as his always-flamboyant partner opened the door and characteristically came rushing up to him dressed in a bright, rayon lime green and navy shirt, partially opened at the collar, and a pair of flared navy blue pants with a silver link belt made out of circles.

Justin felt certain that if Emmett hadn't needed to wear his _Cakes of Art_ cap, he would have completed the hippie-inspired outfit by donning a matching beret to go with it. He _did_ notice that Emmett had somehow located a silver necklace with the peace sign on it to accentuate his 60's look. _Leave it to Em to steal the show_, Justin thought to himself bemused, just before his friend eagerly bent over to hug him briefly and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Baby!" he said animately. "Ready for Round 2?"

Justin noticed that his partner seemed extremely excited to return to the competition; he had a feeling the other man was soaking up all of his temporary celebrity quite enthusiastically. Emmett was _made_ to be a showman. "I'm as ready as I'll _ever_ be," Justin told him, smiling, as he stood up to stand next to his friend. "Everything packed and ready to go?"

Emmett nodded as he placed an arm around his friend's shoulders. "All set, Master Cake Designer," he joked. "Just waiting for your creative touch. Ready to work your magic today?"

Justin smiled. "Let's do it, Partner," he told his friend, as the two of them walked purposefully to their van. It was time for Day 2 of their once-in-a-lifetime adventure.

_

* * *

_

Expo Center – Downtown Pittsburgh

As Justin and Emmett carried a couple of hard, plastic crates filled with a few additional supplies toward the stage, you could feel the energy emanating from the arena. All types of cables were strung around the perimeter of the temporary kitchens, and banks of rounded, black lights were lit up surrounding the entire stage, with _Culinary Channel_ personnel running around left and right, some with microphones and others with paperwork attached to clipboards.

"Geez…..would you look at all the people?" Emmett marveled as he shook his head. Justin had to agree; there seemed to be _twice_ as many people onstage as yesterday, no doubt due to the actual design part of the competition beginning today. Yesterday had simply been the preliminary element of the contest; today would be the actual start of seeing their ideas come to life. As they slowly carried their heavy crates back to their designated design area, Justin also observed a steady stream of spectators flowing into the seats below. He tried briefly to search for Brian, Lindsey, and Gus, but there were so many people quickly surging in, there was no way to find them easily.

He sighed a little in disappointment, mainly because he had hoped to find Brian there; just knowing he was down there in support of his efforts would have made the churning in his stomach abate just a bit and bolster his courage somewhat.

"You okay, Sweetie?" Em asked him as he placed his crate down on a nearby counter, noticing the look of disappointment on his partner's face. "Anything wrong?"

Justin placed his own box of supplies down next to Em's. Should he tell him what had happened last night, and why he looked disappointed? He knew his friend wasn't too convinced that Brian really cared about him, especially after what he had said about him in front of his friends at the diner. Should he tell him that he and Brian had reached an understanding last night?

He hastily decided that perhaps now was not the best to divulge that information to his friend, whose help was going to be greatly needed for the next few days. There would be time for revelations afterward, _after_ the contest had been decided once and for all. He tried to smile reassuringly at Emmett instead. "I'm _fine_, Em, really. Just nervous, I guess." It WAS partially the truth, at least; as the room began to virtually hum with electric excitement, he was getting nervous as hell about performing in front of a live studio audience and quite possibly in front of millions of television viewers. Did he really have the wherewithal to pull this off? He certainly hoped so – at the very least, he was going to give it his best shot. If they didn't win, it wouldn't be because Justin didn't put his heart and soul into it.

Em seemed to accept that explanation as he nodded his understanding. "Well, that certainly makes _sense_," he said empathetically. He looked around the room at all the hustle and bustle going on. "This place is a fucking three-ring circus," he muttered. "Oh, look!" he suddenly emitted an excited, shrill cry. "There's Paul Winslow!" He leaned down to whisper confidentially in Justin's ear as he said, "I know the man's probably a total asshole, but he's still a _sexy_ asshole!"

Justin rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Well, that counts for _something_, I guess," he teased. "Maybe later he'll let you rub his suntan lotion on that _perfect _body of his," he said sarcastically. From what he could tell so far, the man certainly had a high enough opinion of himself. "He certainly comes across as the _greasy type_," he quipped. He knew he was going to have to eventually endure the man's pompous company once more, probably _several times more_, before the competition was finally over. Hopefully, though, Emmett could run interference for him most of the time….He figured he was going to be extremely pressed for time over the next two days, getting his intricate design transferred from paper to edible form. And considering the cake had motion in it, he knew he would need all the time he could _get_.

Emmett laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess I'd have to agree…too much grease, not enough _other_ ingredients," he cracked as the two partners shared a mutual smile at their joke. Their repartee was interrupted by the sound of someone speaking on an overhead doing a countdown to the start of Day 2 of the competition. A male voice intoned, "10…9…8…7…6…5..4..3..2..1," before they noticed a man wearing headphones motion to Winslow to begin speaking.

Sure enough, as soon as the man's hand dropped, they heard the blond, Nordic-looking host begin to address the audience, now at almost full capacity. "Good _afternoon, _Ladies and Gentlemen, and welcome to Day 2 of the Wedding Cake Wars!" The crowd burst into applause at the prompting of a man standing offstage guiding their behavior. As soon as he indicated they were to stop, they all ceased their clapping right on cue.

Justin thought, _so much for spontaneity_, as their host continued. "Today starts the beginning of the exciting _design_ phase. Each team has been assigned a particular theme that they _must_ adhere to in order to continue in the competition. I will be visiting with each team to determine their progress so far, and the judges will be making rounds throughout today as well to study each team's creativity and ability to turn their design into reality. Today, the _real_ competition begins, Ladies and Gentlemen – let the contest begin!"

All the contestants began to scurry around their design areas as the buzzer promptly sounded overhead, signaling the start of Day 2 of the competition, and the giant, red-numbered clock began its five-hour countdown.

Justin glanced at the clock; five hours sounded like a lot of time to the lay person, but to _him_ it didn't seem like _nearly_ enough. It had been fairly routine to get the actual cakes baked yesterday, although it was also a little nerve wracking using an unfamiliar stove as he kept his fingers crossed that nothing would go wrong until the three cake tiers came out of the oven. That part had proceeded smoothly enough, thankfully. Now, however, the _real_ – and most _difficult work – _was about to begin.

As they donned their matching aprons and caps, Emmett asked his partner, "What first, Baby? You're steering the boat here."

Justin twisted his face at the irony. "Very appropriate, partner. Can you start mixing up the Rice Krispie mixture for the waves? I think we'd better concentrate on the water part first." He was intending to place his schooner on the base of the cake as if it were rocking back and forth in the churning waves; but he needed to add the additional layers of Rice Krispie treat mix to form the actual water element; once they were attached to the bottom tier of the prepared cake, he would need to use his icing sprayer to actually paint the various shades of blue, green and white on the fondant-covered Rice Krispies to simulate waves of water with white, foamy crests.

"You got it," Emmett confirmed, nodding. "I always _did_ like to play with my food," he added, winking, eliciting a chuckle from the blond. Justin watched him don his apron and cap before he walked over to one of their crates and pulled out two large boxes of Rice Krispies and several packages of miniature marshmallows. Deciding that would undoubtedly keep Emmett busy for at least an hour, he turned to concentrate on prepping the second layer of his cake for the actual schooner as his partner walked over to their assigned refrigerator to get some butter.

While the large sheet cake would apparently be large enough for the ship, it was still going to require having to pare it down in preparation for shaping it into a replica of the 17th-century ships that had been favored by pirates on the open seas. Attaching the ship eventually to the bottom tier of waves, also, was going to be terribly tricky to do, since the goal would be to have it moving back and forth in the water. That would definitely involve using several , rather large wooden dowels. He would also need some smaller-sized dowels for the three masts that would be adorning the ship on the top. He silently thanked the rules committee of the contest for allowing the competitors to use up to 25% of non-edible components for their cake; if he had had to use all _edible_ parts for his cake, there would have really been no way to truly make his project come to life the way he hoped it would. Of course, it still was open to interpretation how receptive the judges – and the _public _– would be to his finished project.

The studio audience would be allowed to cast a vote for their favorite just before the competition ended tomorrow; their vote would account for 25% of the final tally toward the winning submission. It was important, then, that not only the contestants win the favor of the judges, but also obtain _popular _support as well. _How would the public react to his cake design?_ Justin wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to change anything about it now, though – he was determined to see his idea through to the very end.

* * *

From their vantage point in the audience, Brian watched intently from his center seat as the sole subject of his interest scurried around in preparation for the initial steps in making his cake creation come to fruition. After seeing Justin's two _other_ creations – the Dimetrodon that his son had simply adored, and the Captain Astro cake that Mikey had been in awe of – he was dying to find out what his own little masterful _Doughboy_ had come up with THIS time. _Whatever_ it was, Brian had no doubt it would top everyone else's down there – it was a foregone conclusion as far as HE was concerned.

"Daddy!" his heart warmed as he heard a familiar-sounding voice chirp from the side of his aisle; he looked over and smiled broadly at the sight of Lindsey, his son being carried in her arms, slowly scooting sideways in front of other audience members to reach the two empty seats that Brian had held reserved for them.

"Hey, Sonny Boy!" Brian whispered tenderly. "How's my _little man?"_ Brian noted with amusement that Gus was _still_ clutching the toy that had started his father on an unexpected, wild ride with a certain blond dynamo that was currently front and center on stage and in his every waking – and _sleeping_ - thoughts. He had never imagined how happy he would be to get into a fracas over a toy dinosaur in his life, but now he was thanking his lucky stars that he HAD…...

"Hi, Daddy!" the little boy repeated excitedly; as Lindsey finally managed to sit down with Gus on her lap, the little boy leaned over to give his father a rather sloppy kiss on the cheek; Brian couldn't help beaming at the action in spite of himself. "Where's Jus'n?" he asked immediately, as he turned his head toward the brightly-lit stage. His eyes shone with a typical child's curiosity as he searched the people hurrying around for the familiar, blond-haired head and blue-eyes of his favorite artist.

Since Justin had spent time playing with him, and had been responsible for his most favorite toy – not to mention the fantastic cake he had made – Gus had firmly decided that Justin would make a heck of a substitute daddy; that is, when his _real_ daddy wasn't around. Or even when he WAS – he didn't see why he couldn't have TWO daddies – if one was _good_, two would be even BETTER.

Brian leaned close to his son and pointed over to the left side of the stage, where Justin was hunched over his team's assigned workspace, apparently making some minor changes to his preliminary sketch. "He's over there, Gus," he told his son, who, to Brian's amusement, immediately shouted out loudly, "Hi, Jus'n‼"

Several nearby spectators looked over curiously at the unexpected outburst to determine the source, either fixing the pair with titters of patient understanding or glares over the inconsiderateness. Brian merely chuckled at his son's faux pas as Lindsey blushed a little in embarrassment and softly tried to shush her son, who merely looked at her in confusion over all the fuss.

As Brian turned back to peer at the stage, however, he was rewarded with a bright smile from the object of their scrutiny, who had apparently had no problem hearing Gus' greeting, either. Justin beamed back at the little boy and actually _waved_ at him, to Gus' delight; his son, noticing the action, waved back and, to Brian's slight surprise, blew him a _kiss_.

_Give him one for me, too, Sonny Boy,_ Brian couldn't help thinking as his and Justin's eyes locked for a brief moment before Justin smiled softly once more and returned to his work. "I want to see his _cake_," Gus said, his lips turning under in a little pout as he squirmed restlessly in his mother's lap to be set free.

Lindsey sighed; it was just the beginning of the day's competition, and she dearly wanted to see how Justin did today. If Gus was _already_ getting antsy, however, it was going to be a _long day_. "You can't just yet, Sweetie," she told her son soothingly in a low voice, careful not to disturb the watchful eyes of others studiously observing – and listening to – the events occurring on stage. "They just got started - I promise when it's all done, you will get to see _ALL_ of the cakes, okay? Especially Justin's." The host, Paul Winslow, had mentioned at the beginning of the competition yesterday that ALL of the designers' cakes would be on public display immediately after the contest, as well as on Saturday, so everyone could see and admire their imagery and creative talent.

Brian stole one more quick glance over at his son, who was pouting slightly in disappointment; he grinned softly at his son's downturned face. "It's okay, Sonny Boy," he said soothingly. "I promise when this is all over I'll take you down there personally to see Justin's cake, okay?"

Gus pondered that statement, deciding at last that his father wouldn't lie to him. He finally nodded his head slowly, his face lighting up somewhat at his father's solemn promise. "Okay, Daddy," he answered congenially enough. "But can I have some cotton candy?"

Brian chuckled softly at his son's ploy; _little charmer…..he learned well_, he thought ironically with just a hint of pride. Lindsey rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile with her hand as Brian looked over at her knowingly. She nodded slightly as Brian told his son, "Okay, Gus….but you'll have to wait just a little while, okay?" Brian didn't want to miss one second of gazing on the blond dynamo intensely studying his latest design down on the stage. Brian found that he simply couldn't take his eyes off the other man; his blond hair shone radiantly under the hot, bright spotlights and to Brian the man stood out like a shining beacon among all the other contestants. He was relieved when it appeared the promise he gave his son apparently satisfied him; he nodded and proceeded to play with his toy dinosaur to occupy his wait. Brian knew, however, that he would only be able to avoid fufilling his son's request for a while; hopefully, he could get his son to wait until Justin was allowed to take a break. Until then, he kept his eyes fixed on the blond man onstage who was concentrated strictly on his work. _Go get 'em, Doughboy_, Brian silently encouraged him.

* * *

Time slowly continued as Brian kept his eyes peeled on the little _Doughboy_ hunched over his design table; finally, he heard the host announcing the current status of the contest. "Four more hours, Ladies and Gentlemen! You should all be starting to prepare your cake by now…..keep in mind, the judges will be walking around to study your preliminary creations to make sure you are abiding by the rules and following your assigned themes."

The blond, tanned, oh-so-smooth host with not a hair out of place began to walk slowly toward the first pair of designers, the _Lone Star Treats _team. "Let's see how the first pair of contestants are doing," he stated to the audience as he spoke into the mike attached to his lapel. "This is the team _Lone Star Treats_ from Texas, appropriately," he intoned, smiling almost a little TOO easily. "They have been assigned the theme of _romance. _Let's see what they've come up with, shall we?"

To Justin, who glanced over briefly at their host in curiosity, the man seemed to have the personality of a droid rather than a human being – the man's speech was just TOO smooth and rolled a little TOO easily off the tongue, as if he had rehearsed it so often he was now totally bored with the whole event. He watched for a few seconds longer as the panel of four judges walked up next to the host and stood there studying the pair of men from Team # 1 working diligently on their design.

Justin shuddered slightly; if that greasy man came up to _their_ kitchen, and brought his quartet of judges with him, he was going to be extremely nervous. And at this juncture, no matter _how much_ the man might want to know what he was up to, he was only going to get limited information about his idea from HIM. He would be willing to describe the schooner he was making, and the waves it would be resting upon, but as far as the actual characters, he wasn't divulging _anything_. He wanted that part to be a last-minute surprise. He figured it was going to cause _enough_ controversy without revealing it initially.

"I'm glad we're #8," he said softly to Emmett, who was slowly stirring a large pile of the sticky, Rice Krispie confection in a huge pot on their commercial-grade stove. With the size of the ship, they were going to need a fairly substantial amount of mixture to mold to the bottom layer of the design for the undulating waves where the ship would be cradled as it rocked back and forth. "I'm not looking forward to our turn with _Mr. Robo Host_ and his quartet from the Inquisition."

Emmett snickered as he nodded; his hand was quickly getting exhausted from the surprisingly strong effort he was having to make as he tried to stir the quickly-stiffening concoction in his pot. "Yeah…I think if any of those judges cracked a smile, the earth would open up and _swallow them_."

Justin smirked in agreement, considering the description extremely accurate; he noticed that the judges all wore identical, dour, stern expressions as they stood close to the pair of contestants and wrote notes down on a clipboard anchored on their arms. He watched nervously as the judges conferred among themselves; he also noticed with some trepidation that the judges were apparently being taped and overheard while they spoke.

If his experience at watching similar shows was any indication, these so-called "private conversations" would no doubt wind up at some point as highlighted features of the televised version; whether they would actually show up tomorrow on television before the finale, or later during a follow-up show, was unclear. But he had no misconceptions that anything he, Emmett, OR the judges said wouldn't be recorded and played back at some point for the television audience. He made a mental note to be careful about what he did – or _didn't_ – say to either the host or the judges once they made their way over to _their_ table.

Justin finished making a minor change to his sketch before he put his pencil down to join Emmett. "Need me to spell you?" he asked his friend; he knew from previous experience how difficult it could be to stir the Rice Krispies mixture once it had set a little further, and he had noticed Emmett stopping periodically to shake his hand, apparently to get some of the feeling back into it.

Emmett considered the request, but then shook his head. "It's okay, Baby…..I got it." He knew how easily Justin's hand would be affected if it used it too much; he considered the slight amount of discomfort he was experiencing of little consequence considering what the same type of exercise would do to his partner. They would need Justin's expertise greatly in the next couple of days for the actual design and creation; the least he could do was help prepare for the more complex work and keep his friend's hand from stiffening up so badly that he would be unable to work. That wouldn't do either _one_ of them any good.

Justin smiled at him gratefully but didn't call Emmett out on his decision that he keep going; both of them knew _exactly_ why Emmett was declining Justin's offer of assistance, and Justin was extremely grateful for his refusal. He knew that as much as he was willing to help with the stirring, if he DID do it, his hand would be in pain and near agony in no time. They both knew it was vital that Justin be able to use both of his hands for the intricate design work that was going to be needed shortly.

He nodded slightly in grateful understanding. "Well, if you're sure…..I think I'll work on the ship, then," he decided, pretending that both of them didn't know _exactly_ what was going on. "Once we get the waves done, that will be the next step anyway. Let me know when it's ready and cooled off enough, and I'll put the ship creation on hold for a while. We need to get those waves molded while it's pliable so I can get the fondant on it soon as possible." Justin knew that once he started painting the fondant-covered waves with the icing paint, it would take at least 15 minutes for the quick-drying material to dry enough for him to be able to start anchoring the waves to the bottom cake base.

"You got it, Baby," Emmett told him, giving him a short tip of his cap to him before he turned back to his work. Justin was so glad that Emmett was his partner; the man was not only a lot of fun, he never complained about whatever task Justin asked him to do, no matter _HOW_ trivial or mundane it was. Both of them knew if they were to be successful, they had to work together as a team. If they couldn't, it wouldn't matter _HOW_ talented Justin was.

* * *

_Thirty Minutes Later_

"It's 1:30, Contestants! 1:30! You have exactly three and a half hours left! Make the most of it!" Winslow urged the contestants as he faced the cameras and studio audience. "There _will _be a short break of fifteen minutes at 2:00 p.m.," he advised the teams. Justin noticed with a degree of dread that the man and his team of judges were getting ever closer to their design area; they were currently speaking to the British team, _Scrumptious Buns_, located two kitchens from theirs, so it was just a matter of time before the group arrived at _their_ kitchen.

"Don't look now, but we're about to be on _Candid Camera_," Justin muttered to his friend, who was presently trying to hold a large, flattened square of the Rice Krispie confection steady on the table while Justin used a cutting knife to shape the waves that would soon be covered with fondant and painted various shades of blue, sea green, and white.

"Oh, goodie," Emmett said sarcastically; his response actually surprised Justin, who knew his friend had been enamored of the suave host earlier; apparently Emmett was quickly seeing right through the blond surfer-type with his pasted-on smile. "At least I'll be on camera, though," he added, his face brightening at the thought. After all, he hadn't spent such a prolonged period of time picking out his outfit at Torso NOT to be able to show it off….

Justin shook his head in amusement as he quickly returned to his task; he _had_ to get the mixture cut out into the several sizes of waves quickly before it threatened to dry out and be too rigid to work with. "Hold that corner a little more firmly," he asked his partner, who obediently turned his attention back to the pebbly mixture and pressed down on the corner of it with a cloth as Justin slowly cut the curvy shape of a larger wave out and separated it from the rest of the large square.

He finally stood up straight after a couple of minutes and leaned backward to stretch out his quickly aching back. He grunted in displeasure at the stiffness. "Shit – I shouldn't have leaned over for so long – my back is fucking _killing me_," he told his friend. "I'm glad it's close to break time – I definitely need to get some circulation back into my legs and back."

Luckily, shortly after he commented on it, a harsh-sounding buzzer sounded loudly overhead as the host confirmed it was 2:00 p.m. and the commencement of their 15-minute break. "Thank God," Justin muttered; he carefully wrapped the Rice Krispie waves in cellophane wrap to keep them pliable and put his cutting tool down on the table before he walked over to their small, single tub sink and ran his sticky hands under the water with some soap to clean them. Briefly wiping his hands on his apron, he untied the fabric and placed it down nearby on the counter along with his cap before he slowly shuffled off to the side of the stage to hopefully snag something to drink; his mouth was dry as sawdust after concentrating for the past couple of hours on his work.

As he approached the steps near the side of the stage, his heart began to beat a little faster as he saw two similar-looking brunet heads staring at him with almost identical grins. _Like father, like son_, he thought tenderly as he smiled back at the two males waiting for him.

As Brian waited for Justin to exit the competition area, he felt his son fidgeting restlessly in his arms; he had decided for the sake of security it would be wise to restrain Gus, for fear the boy would bolt onto the stage and make good on his wish to check out all the cakes and have a taste of them. _Don't worry, Sonny Boy – if all goes well, soon you'll get a taste of the Doughboy's cake and I'LL get a "taste" again of the Doughboy himself….._

"Jus'n!" Gus called out as Justin approached them, grinning.

"Hey, Buddy! How have you _been_? I see you're taking good care of Dino…..It's _good_ to see you're being such a good _dad_," he told the boy, who beamed at the compliment. Justin looked up softly at the boy's father. "I'm glad you're here," he told Brian as he let out an involuntary yawn suddenly.

Brian grinned. "Yeah, I can see how _stimulating_ my presence is to you," he kidded him as Justin blushed slightly.

"I'm sorry," the blond told him apologetically. "I didn't sleep as well last night as I hoped I would," he admitted. _Too many things going on and too many thoughts spent dwelling on YOU…._

Gus held out a paper cup with a straw sticking out of it. "Daddy thought you might be thirsty, Jus'n," he told the artist. Here."

"Thanks, Buddy," Justin told Gus, but his eyes were locked onto his father's, who stared back at him intensely with an emotion Justin couldn't quite decipher. "I AM pretty thirsty, all right," he told them as he took a large sip from the straw and sighed. "That hit the spot," he said. "My throat felt like it was made out of sandpaper."

Brian looked around and noticed a small collection of portable, wooden tables and chairs scattered near the concession area close by. "Would you like to sit down with us for a few minutes?" he asked Justin, who quickly nodded. The blond noticed with amusement that Brian had a cone of cotton candy wedged into the fingers of his right hand as he handed it to Gus, who promptly pulled a large piece off and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Definitely," Justin told them as they walked over to one of the empty, round tables and sat down.; he sighed in contentment as he commandeered one of the chairs and was finally able to get off his feet. "Ah, that feels SO good," he told them. "I've been on my feet non-stop for the past couple of _hours_. I'm going to have to get me some of those gel inserts to go in my sneakers – I don't know how Debbie at the diner _does it_." He suddenly realized they were missing someone. "Where's Lindsey, by the way?" He knew he had seen her earlier out in the audience with Gus and Brian.

"She had to go down to the art gallery to keep some important appointment," Brian told him. "She asked me if I would mind keeping an eye on Sonny Boy until she got back – Gus kind of _insisted_, anyway," he said, smirking. Truth be told, Gus had put up such a fuss about leaving the show – and _especially_ Justin's side – that they had decided to avoid any more outbursts around the others in the audience and just let him stay with Brian. Brian, actually, really didn't mind – he would never really admit it out loud, but he always _enjoyed _spending time with his son, who never failed to lift his spirits. As he looked over at Justin, however, he decided he now had TWO males that lifted his spirits. Having _both_ of them together with him at the same time, then, was a double bonus.

"Yeah," Gus chimed in. "I wanted to _stay_…Dino, too," he added, holding up his _charge_ for emphasis. Justin chuckled softly at his statement as he looked over at Brian, his blue eyes twinkling. "Well, I'm glad you did," Justin told him tenderly. "I'm glad all _THREE_ of you decided to stay."

From his chair opposite Justin's, Brian's eyes met his and reflected the same sort of emotion that Justin's did.

As the buzzer loudly sounded again to signal the end of his break and interrupted his thoughts, Justin slowly rose with reluctance to his feet, dreading having to stand on his feet again or the next three hours, and also knowing that his and Emmett's "time in the spotlight" was fast at hand; he was definitely _not _looking forward to being interviewed by that conceited, perfectly coiffed man, nor having his ideas questioned by the judges. But he knew both of them were inevitable. "Well, I'd better get back," he told his companions. "Thanks again for the drink, Buddy," he told Gus as he affectionately ruffled his soft, brown hair, but his gaze was pointed, instead, at the little boy's father as he spoke.

Brian twisted his mouth in a sort of tender smile as he promised, "We'll be here when you get finished today; knock 'em dead, _Doughboy_."

Justin stood there for a couple of seconds, smiling as his body flushed with pleasure at the thought of Brian waiting for him and his encouraging words. "I'll see you later," he told the brunet. "Bye, Big Guy," he told Gus, as he reached over and gave the little boy a kiss as he sat contented on one of the chairs, still munching away on his cotton candy.

"What about _Daddy_?" Gus said, pointing his Dino-occupied hand over at his father.

Justin's eyebrows narrowed slightly in confusion. _What ABOUT Brian?_

"Yeah, _Jus'n_…..what about _Daddy_?" Brian said innocently, tapping his index finger against his cheek a few times in explanation.

Justin blushed slightly now that he understood. He hesitated slightly before he leaned over and placed a quick kiss on Brian's cheek, also. As he stood up and looked at father and son for a brief moment, Gus smiled and waved back at him with his free hand in a sort of circular motion as Brian smirked back at him with a sort of smug look on his face.

Justin rolled his eyes at the brunet before he waved back at Gus and hurried back to the stage, suddenly feeling certain that his burden was going to be just a little lighter the rest of the afternoon….


	26. Chapter 26: Scumptious Buns & Doughboy

_Day Two – Expo Center – 2:45 p.m._

Emmett walked quietly over to his partner, who was intently finishing cutting out the last of the waves to be attached to the 1st tier of the cake base. The Rice-Krispie mixture that Emmett had prepared had fortunately been kept pliable enough with the Saran Wrap during their break that he was able to successfully shape them into the right thickness before he began to cut them out. Now he was down to cutting out the last wave before he could drape the white fondant over the pieces to begin the delicate task of custom spray painting with liquid icing to color them with shades of blue and sea-green.

"How's it going, Baby?" Em asked him, staring over his shoulder at the various sizes of waves that Justin had meticulously cut out.

"So far, so good," Justin reported to him. "This is the last one," he told his partner; Emmett watched, fascinated, as the blond deftly cut out the final piece, perfectly resembling a large, crashing wave. He became concerned, however, as Justin began to swing his hand back and forth in a pendulum-type motion as if it had fallen asleep.

"Your hand's bothering you, isn't it?" Em asked him softly; he knew how hard it was for Justin to admit to any handicap that would evoke sympathy from others, but with Em he could be honest.

"A little," Justin admitted quietly. "But it's okay…..It's just bothering me because of all the repetitive motion. _Really_," he assured his friend, who gave him a skeptical look. "It'll be better once I move on to the painting part." He _definitely_ didn't want _too-smooth Winslow _to know what was going on; that's just what the man would need to find some twisted, sensational angle to use for his own, self-promoting benefit. He wasn't going to give the guy the perverted pleasure.

"Don't say anything to Winslow," Justin pleaded, as he noticed the man was presently interviewing the adjacent team, _Bay City Bakers_ from San Francisco. The suave television host had been speaking with them for some time now, so Justin suspected the man – AND the four judges, along with all of the television entourage – would be over to their kitchen very soon.

Emmett made a zipping motion across his mouth. "Mum's the word, Justin," he told his friend quietly, stealing a peek at the good-looking man presently smiling a saccharine smile in front of the television cameras; what a shame the man's good looks didn't match his sincerity. "He definitely won't hear from _me,"_ he assured his friend, who smiled gratefully. After all, Emmett had as much to lose as Justin if they opened themselves up to controversy. Of course, with the design his friend had in mind, they might actually manage to do just THAT. It would all depend upon how open-minded the judges – and the _public _– were.

"Thanks, Em," Justin told him, nodding. He finally stilled his hand to test how much it was still aching, and found to his relief that the pain _had_ abated somewhat. It was down to more of a constant, dull throb now; at least it was tolerable, although he still was disappointed to even have to be _dealing_ with it now. He spent a brief few seconds cursing Hobbes for his pain before forcing his mind to refocus on the task at hand; he was NOT going to let that – _monster_ – affect what he was trying to accomplish here.

Justin's pain did not go unnoticed by Brian, who watched, concerned, from his seat in the audience. He didn't know exactly why Justin's hand was hurting, but by the look on his face and the back and forth motion he was doing with his hand, it was obvious that it was bothering him considerably. "What the fuck is _going_ on?" he whispered to Lindsey, who had returned a few minutes ago from the art gallery."

Receiving a glare of caution from his friend for using that kind of language in front of Gus, she whispered, "I don't _know_," she whispered back, trying not to disturb those listening to Winslow's reporting nearby. "It looks like his hand's bothering him – do you think he _hurt _it somehow?"

Brian stared at his Doughboy, puzzled as well as concerned; the look of discomfort on Justin's face was so transparent, he could almost feel his pain out here in his seat. "I…don't _know_," he said honestly. "It sure looks like it's bothering him, though, all right." He made a mental note to ask him later about what happened, but silently hoped that he wouldn't give up in the competition.

From the second Justin had begun to shape his creation today, Brian had watched every move in rapt fascination. He was amazed by how Justin had taken a pan of Rice Krispie treats and flattened it with a rolling pan to cut out what appeared to be waves. Now Justin had some type of apparatus – apparently a paint sprayer? – and was meticulously airbrushing the cutouts with a royal-blue color, verifying that the pieces were _indeed_ apparently going to be water shapes.

He _already_ knew from past experience that Justin could make extraordinary things out of cake batter, but this was amazing. He couldn't wait to see what came next, and to discover just what his design was going to be. All he knew at this point was that, according to Lindsey, Justin and Emmett had been assigned the theme of _Adventure_. Did that mean the waves would be incorporated with a cruise of some kind? He couldn't wait to find out, as he continued to stare at the blond dynamo down on the stage.

* * *

Justin sighed in relief as he finally finished painting the last piece of the Rice Krispie waves with the blue icing and stood up straight, stretching out his back to try and relieve some of the tension. Now all he had to do was diffuse some of the sea-green paint over the blue waves to make them look more realistic; the white fondant was already the correct color for the crests. Fortunately, the icing "paint" would be quick-drying, so after approximately 15 minutes or so he would be able to go ahead and fasten them to the cake base. From there, he could begin to shape the schooner and work on placing a stout, thick dowel in the middle of the base to help create the rocking motion for the ship.

"Uh, Baby, don't look now, but the _Pesky People Patrol_ is on their way over," Emmett warned him as he leaned down and whispered in his ear. He noticed his friend tensing up slightly as Justin turned around to observe a veritable pack of people, lights, and cables heading their way. _Here we go_, Justin thought with apprehension, working hard to plaster a nonchalant smile on his face (even though he was nervous as hell), and trying like crazy to will his hand to stop throbbing, at least enough to get through the next several minutes. _Hold it together, Taylor….._

"We're at the kitchen of Team #8, _Cakes of Art_," Winslow was reporting into the microphone attached to his lapel as he smoothly turned to face the studio audience to address them. He and his tidal wave of people sidled up to Emmett first, to Justin's great relief; the blond noted, however, that the four judges remained somewhat apart from the rest of the group as they studiously eyed what he had accomplished thus far. All the whispering they were presently doing was definitely not helping either ONE of his hands, which were shaking now, not so much due to the pain but because of the butterflies in his uneasy stomach. He silently, fervently hoped that the flood of people would only remain for a short while; he still had several hours of work ahead of him if he were to finish his creation properly.

He could hear Emmett talking away into the camera; Justin couldn't help thinking as he smiled that his friend was _born_ for this type of moment; as he glanced over quickly at his friend, he noticed the man adroitly staring directly into the camera as he bubbled on about his experience so far at the competition.

"Well, everyone has just been _SO_ hospitable," he was telling their host as he beamed, his eyes sparkling with delight. "And all the _attention!_ Be still my heart – I've seen so many well-known people here, especially _YOU_," he gushed. "And the other competitors – it's so exciting to see how they work! Although I seriously doubt if anyone could possibly live up to what _we've _got in mind…"

Justin smirked as Emmett continued speaking without even coming up for breath; Em was really spreading it all thick….hopefully, he would manage to keep Winslow occupied for several more minutes; hell, Justin wouldn't mind if the man's time was _totally_ monopolized by his friend, but something told him that wasn't going to happen. Especially since Emmett had just indirectly mentioned their design….that was sure to spark some questions directed at HIM.

Sure enough, after a few more seconds, he overheard their host trying with difficulty to extricate himself from his conversation with Emmett as he heard Winslow saying, "Well, that's nice, Mr. Honeycutt…..Now if you'll excuse me, we'd like to talk to your business partner and actual cake designer, Justin Taylor, the youngest contestant in our competition, to get some inside information on what he DOES have in mind."

As he tried to concentrate on finishing up the sea-green touches to the ocean waves, Justin noticed the man slowly threading his way toward him as Emmett stood there, somewhat flustered that he had been virtually pushed aside from the limelight and was being left in the background as Winslow approached him.

"Mr. Taylor," the man was saying as he smiled broadly, his perfect white teeth practically glowing under the hot spotlight as he faced the camera and angled his body slightly toward Justin. The blond hated to be forced to stop what he was doing, but he knew this was a part of the "game" as he tried hard to appear congenial toward this man who just reeked of being disingenuous. "You are the youngest contestant to ever compete on _Wedding Cake Wars,_" he reminded Justin. "How do you maintain your calm, knowing that you're competing against seasoned veterans who have participated in the show numerous times before?"

"I'm sure everyone here is very talented," Justin said politely, "But frankly, Mr. Winslow, I don't have _time_ to worry about the others. I'm concentrating, instead, on accomplishing what _I_ need to get done in the next couple of days on my own design."

Winslow nodded, just like one of those bobbing-head dogs. "I _see_," he said, scratching his chin as if he were examining a patient in a treatment room; Justin tried hard not to roll his eyes at the obvious lack of genuine interest. _What an arrogant jerk!_, he couldn't help thinking. _Sort of like SOMEONE ELSE I met,_ he thought wryly. _At least until I got to know what he was REALLY like….._

Winslow continued as if he hadn't really heard what Justin had said. "Well, it _still_ must make you somewhat intimidated by the experience the other contestants have brought to the table," he insisted, leaning a little too closely toward Justin for the blond's comfort as he lightly fidgeted on his feet, anxious to get back to his work.

_Was this man fucking DEAF?_ "Like I SAID," Justin responded, his voice rising just a bit in irritation; he was trying with extreme difficulty to remain civil, but this pompous ass was making his skin practically crawl. "I don't really worry about the others," he said stiffly. "I just worry about my _OWN_ work. This contest isn't based just on _experience_ – it's also based on originality and creativity. That is what I am trying to focus on."

"Uh, huh," Winslow replied as he continued to stare at the camera focused on him, NOT on Justin, who should have been the focus of his attention. "Well, Good Luck to you, Mr. Taylor," the man finally said to Justin's great relief. He breathed out a quiet, exasperated sigh as he was able at last to turn back to his work.

His relief, however, was only fleeting as he heard someone clearing their throat nearby. Turning around with an initial look of annoyance that Winslow was _again_ interrupting the several hours of work he _still_ had in front of him, he was somewhat mortified to discover that it wasn't the oily host seeking his attention but the quartet of judges now eyeing him critically.

"Mr. Taylor?" Sylvia asked coolly as the others studied him intently. "I'm Sylvia Cooper, the head judge. I'd like to ask you some questions about your design." She looked somewhat suspiciously over at Justin, who blinked a little nervously at the four steely pairs of eyes staring back at him with a penetrating look.

"Uh…..of course," he stuttered a little with trepidation; the woman's beady, unblinking eyes and her severe dress made him more intimidated than any of the other competing _designers_ did; it was a good thing Winslow hadn't asked him about THESE people instead of his rivals, because his insides were shaking right now like they were made out of Jell-O.

He noticed the woman glance down at her clipboard before she stated, "Your team has the theme of _adventure_. What can you tell me about your design?" The other three judges grouped closely around her, near Justin's initial cake design, as they waited expectantly for his answer.

Justin felt Em place his hand on his left shoulder in a sign of camaraderie. It was a subtle sign, but it still helped to bolster his assertiveness just a bit as he found his voice to reply, "Well, it will feature a design on the high seas. I'm in the process of constructing an old-fashioned schooner ship for the main focus of the design."

Sylvia continued to eye him critically. "And the _rest _of the design? How are you going to incorporate the wedding angle into this ship?"

Justin hesitated; he knew his design would no doubt have a certain amount of controversy surrounding it – maybe a whole LOT of controversy – and he didn't feel the need to divulge the twist in his design just yet. He had read the rules and it didn't state _anywhere_ in there that he had to state what his entire design was before the competition was over, nor did it prohibit doing what he had in mind. _Let the Dragon Queen find out when the REST of the crowd does, _he decided.

"I'm _sorry_, Ms. Cooper, but I prefer to keep the rest of my design under my hat, so to speak, until it's nearer to completion. I can promise you, though, it WILL adhere to the theme rules as set forth in the material I received." He eyed the group confidently now – more confidently that he _actually_ felt at the moment – but he wasn't going to be coerced into revealing information he wasn't ready to reveal just yet, no matter HOW much they might want to know. Besides, he figured a little mystery in the competition certainly couldn't hurt and might even _help_ their chances of winning.

The woman appeared flustered, as well as a little insulted, by the young man's rebuff of her request; in fact, she couldn't recall another time where one of the previous contestants had refused to answer her questions – or what was more accurately a _demand_, although in her mind she didn't look at it that way. She simply figured that with her background and expertise, anyone else would refuse to disobey her directive.

"Well, I suppose that's your prerogative under the rules, young man," she responded stiffly. "Just make sure you DO abide by ALL the regulations regarding your theme, or you will be DISQUALIFIED immediately." The other three judges nodded their heads, refusing apparently to get in the middle of their "leader's" admonition, before, to Justin's great relief, the quartet _finally _sauntered away to no doubt wreak havoc – and fray nerves – on someone else. Justin DID note that the four had stopped several feet away and were huddled together with Winslow, speaking in whispers as they continued to steal occasional glances over at him. No doubt they were quietly reprimanding him for his stance, but he didn't care. This was the first – and it COULD be the _last_ – time he had ever competed on such a scale with anyone, and he wasn't about to sacrifice his principles for their benefit.

"Don't let it freak you out, Baby," he heard Em tell him from behind. "There just not the _patient types_. I think they're more into instant gratification – sort like someone ELSE we all know and wouldn't even _try_ to figure out."

Justin turned around to flash him a puzzled look, until he saw Emmett bob his head toward the audience – even though he wasn't specifically pointing someone out in particular, it didn't take someone from Mensa to figure out who he was referring to. He blushed as he quickly realized who Emmett was talking about.

"You noticed that, did you?" Justin asked him softly as he stole a quick glance down at Brian, who, along with Gus and Lindsey, was watching him intently. The two men locked gazes on each other for a few seconds until Justin smiled a little bashfully and turned back to his friend, who was staring at him with a smug expression on his face. "What?"

Emmett smirked. "Just what's going on between the _two_ of you, Justin?" The question came out not quite as an accusation but more of a probing, yet concerned type of query. "I saw that look he was giving you. I thought the two of you had parted ways."

Justin turned back to his fondant work, preparing to attach the waves to the base of his cake. "We did," he verified. He could almost feel the heat of Emmett's gaze on his back, waiting for the additional explanation. He knew Emmett was most likely going to disapprove of his renewed relationship with Brian, but when it all came down to it, it was really nobody's business but his and Brian's.

He sighed as he took a few seconds to turn around, figuring he might as well address the issue now; it wasn't going to just go away. "We had a long talk last night – Brian saw how tired I was last night after the first day and he offered to drive me home." At Emmett's look of doubt and his raised eyebrow, Justin hastened to add, "That's _all_ it was, Em – _really_. We just talked and cleared the air."

"Uh, huh," Emmett said in a tone of voice that said, _What's the REST of it you're not telling me?_

"Don't look at me like that, Emmett," he said, turning around to resume his work. "He explained why he did what he did at the diner, and I _believe him_. I really do think he cares about me. Please don't try and change my mind about continuing to see him." He picked up a large container of rather stiff icing to use for anchoring his waves to the bottom tier of the cake as he waited for the other proverbial shoe to drop from his friend.

He heard a slight rustling behind him just before he felt a hand on his shoulder again. "I'm just worried he's going to break your heart one more, Baby," he whispered. "I wouldn't want that to happen to you." He turned to stand next to Justin, who finally turned his gaze away from his design for a few seconds to look up at his friend.

He sighed slightly again. "Emmett…..I'm grateful that you're looking out for my best interests – you've always been my _friend_ as well as my partner – but I'm truly convinced he really DOES care about me," he repeated again. "Even YOU told me before that you thought he felt differently about me than he did toward anybody _else_," he pointed out.

Emmett twisted his mouth, chagrined. "Yeah…..it seems I do kind of remember saying that in a not-so-particularly lucid moment," he admitted grudgingly. His eyes intently studied those of his friend for a few seconds before he finally decided, "If he makes you happy and promises to be _GOOD_ to you…..then I guess I'm _happy_ for you, too."

Justin beamed at his friend's declaration of confidence; his heart warmed just at thought of seeing Brian alone again. "He _does_, Em…he really does," he told him firmly as he couldn't resist sneaking one more peek at the man in question, who winked at him from the audience and smiled that rather lop-sided, endearing smile that only HE could display, causing Justin's face to darken an even deeper shade of pink. As he reluctantly forced himself to return to his work, he somehow knew that things would work out for Brian and him after all this hectic procedure was over with. He was definitely looking forward to some private _quality_ time with Mr. Kinney to prove that theory, anyway….

Em couldn't help observing the quick, almost unnoticed interaction between his business partner and the admittedly sexy-as-hell brunet sitting attentively in one of the closer rows toward the stage. _Maybe, just maybe Justin is right….I certainly hope so, Baby_.

"What can I do to help _now, _Partner?" he asked animatedly. "Ready to hoist sail yet?"

Justin snorted. "I _wish_, Em. We've got a long way to go yet before we can say "anchors away" on THIS ship," he told his friend, who chuckled.

"So what can I _do?"_ Em asked; he looked over at the large clock displayed above the stage, its huge, red LCD numbers slowly counting down the time left for Day Two. "Looks like we've only got an hour left today," he pointed out.

"No fucking way!" Justin cried, as he twisted his head to look at the clock. _Where had the afternoon GONE_? He wasn't _nearly_ as far along on the cake design as he had hoped. "Shit! I can't _believe _it's after 4:00 already!" He wiped his powdery hands on his apron before running them through his hand in frustration. "That group of judges from Hell and their _devil_ sidekick threw me completely off schedule," he lamented.

"Well, don't you worry, Baby. That's what _I'M_ here for. Tell me how I can help you get caught up."

Justin smiled gratefully at his friend and partner. As he heard Winslow making the official announcement to the studio audience that there was only one hour left now, Justin looked around thoughtfully. "Well, I think if I give you this frosting, you can attach the waves to the cake base," he said. "They're going to go around the perimeter of the bottom tier. Think you can do that for me? That way, I can get started on shaping the schooner to go on top."

Emmett nodded. "Sure thing…..I like playing with _creamy_ things," he said cheerily, causing Justin to laugh out loud. "Just hand me the tub and a spatula and look out!" He held out his hand expectantly.

Justin smiled as he handed over a large, round tub of buttercream frosting and a commercial-grade, flat, flared spatula. "Here's your weapon, then, partner – do it for the good of the team!" He couldn't help giving Em a small slap on his ass with the spatula as the taller man turned back around to begin his task.

"Keep _that_ up, Baby, and Mr. Kinney will be after MY hide, too – but for a _different reason_," he teased. "Whatever you do, don't awaken the beast before I have a chance to escape tonight."

Justin shook his head in amusement as he moved over to the nearby adjacent counter where the second, baked tier of the cake was resting. He kept a watchful eye on Emmett's work as he studied his sketch of the schooner, making sure his knife strokes were clean and accurate as he began to trim the large, rectangular layer into three pieces that would ultimately become a 17th-century schooner with three large sail masts. Thanks to Emmett taking over the part of anchoring the waves around the cake base, maybe he could get back on schedule before they had to leave tonight. _Whatever_ happens, he knew he would need all of his remaining five hours tomorrow to complete his project to his satisfaction. He still needed to create and attach the masts, weapons, and most importantly of all, the main characters to the top of the cake tomorrow. All that intricate work was going to take an extremely long time to compose.

* * *

_An Hour Later_

Justin jumped as the ending buzzer sounded for the day; he had been so intent on his carving that he hadn't noticed the clock counting down the final seconds of the competition for Day Two. He just barely missed cutting into the wrong part of the ship's bow as the cacophonous sound bleated out through the sound speaker and he heard Winslow's voice confirming the end of the day's events.

"Time's up, Ladies and Gentlemen! Please put down your supplies and prepare them for tomorrow's continuation. You have five minutes to store any items needed and leave the stage!" He turned toward the studio audience to address them, as well as the television audience, who would view this part of the contest later tonight. "You do NOT want to miss the final day of this event, everyone! Don't forget – tomorrow's competition will commence at a later time to allow for it to be carried live on the Culinary Channel. Day 3 will begin at 6:00 p.m., with the winner announced just before 11:00 before not only the audience here but in front of millions of our television viewers! It's shaping up to be a real donnybrook, so whatever you do, don't MISS this event! Until tomorrow – happy baking and make your life sweet!"

"Oh, brother," Justin muttered under his breath at the man's over-the-top presentation. "If I wasn't so tired right now, I think I'd throw up." He stretched out his back like a cat, trying hard to loosen the stiffness in his shoulders.

Emmett smirked. "Well, I'm tired too, and the man's STILL making me nauseous," he quipped. "What a waste of a perfectly hot-looking man," he said, sighing. "Well, I think I know just the ticket for a little energy pick-me-up. I'm sure there's a cosmos – or TWO – with my name on it down at the bar."

As Justin made sure their cake supplies and design were securely stored away in their locked cabinet for the night, out of reach of possible saboteurs, Em asked, "Baby, would you mind if I stayed again for a while longer? Fame is so fleeting as it is and I want to bask in every second of it while my name is on every gay man's lips down at the bar."

Justin smiled, glad that his friend was enjoying his new-found celebrity status, even if it DID turn out to be temporary. "Sure, Em," he told him. "I'll take the bus home or…."

"A certain _someone_ will be MORE than glad to take you home, I'm sure," Em finished for him, glancing knowingly over at the "certain someone," who was purposefully threading his way slowly toward the left side of the stage with his son in his arms.

Justin blushed again, amazed at how just the mention of Brian could make his heart leap at the thought of being with him, even if he WAS with Gus. Justin really enjoyed Gus' company – the boy was simply a delight in his innocent joy over everything he experienced in life – it was just that he enjoyed his father's company just a little BETTER. Silently, he hoped that perhaps Gus' appearance was just a temporary one as made plans to be picked up tomorrow in the van and bid his business partner a quick goodbye before, hurriedly discarding his slightly-soiled apron and cap on a nearby chair, he walked over toward the stage to meet Brian.

He was so intent on seeing the brunet again that he didn't notice the other man that was resolutely walking toward him with the goal of intersecting him before he left for the evening. "Why, we meet again, _Mr. Taylor_," a British voice sounded nearby. Justin slowed his walk down but did not stop completely at the sound of the familiar voice; he was too intent on reaching his goal to stop completely.

"Mr. Hayden," Justin replied politely, nodding slightly in recognition. "Hope your design is going well. If you'll excuse me…."

But the would-be, British suitor wasn't so easily brushed off, NOT when he had such a delicious goal in mind. He quickly reached out to grasp Justin's wrist to prevent him from proceeding any further before asking, "What about having dinner with me, Love? I'm sure you're tired as hell – just like me – but you still have to eat something to keep those _scrumptious buns_ in tip-top shape." He took a few seconds to admire that particular part of Justin's anatomy, thinking the blond's snug jeans were a perfect showcase for one of the man's _strengths_, among so many other wonderful parts of the man's anatomy. He couldn't wait to find just what OTHER talents besides cake design the man possessed, as his gaze took a leisurely trip from Justin's ass up to his blue eyes, which were presently registering a distinct, darkened shade of annoyance toward him.

"I've got _other plans_," Justin told him flatly, trying in no uncertain terms to make sure the other man knew he WASN'T interested. _How COULD I be, when I have PERFECTION waiting for me over there?_

To Justin's aggravation – AND to Brian's, unbeknownst to him at the moment – the man still wasn't deterred in his goal. After all, Hayden Sterling didn't get to this prestigious competition that every cake designer longed to be invited to by being _timid_ in his business life, and he wasn't that way in his PERSONAL LIFE, either – not when he really wanted something. "But you HAVE to eat," he said smoothly, his baritone voice taking on a suggestive tone.

"But NOT with YOU!" the Brit heard an angry voice reply, just before his face came into contact with a fist and he reeled back from the shock.

"Brian!" Justin cried out as he grabbed the brunet's arm and restrained him; he noticed that Gus was standing nearby, his eyes wide in captivated interest but not apparently in fear. He appeared, rather, to be taking it all in as if he were watching an old shoot-em-up Western, instead, featuring a duel between _Killer Kinney_ and _Hayden the Horrible_. "Get 'em, Daddy!" Gus cried out, raising Dino in his fist and making a jabbing motion in imitation of his father's move.

As Sterling rubbed his chin where it had made contact with Brian's fist, he slowly rose from his position on the ground and glared at the brunet. "That, sir, was _totally_ uncared for!" he huffed as he stood nearby, shooting daggers at the stranger who had appeared out of nowhere to defend Justin's _honor_. "I was merely asking the man out to _dinner_," he breathed out angrily.

"Yeah," Brian countered as Justin continued to hold him back firmly, "And the man was telling you NO. Last time I looked, NO meant the same thing in England as well as America."

Justin rolled his eyes. _How did he wind up being the center of all this attention?_ He warily looked around, enormously relieved that no one apparently had paid too much mind to the events unfolding at the side of the stage. Thank God most of the contestants had already left by either the right-hand stage or down the center aisle. Only a few people were left on stage, apparently backstage workers of the television channel from the looks of their uniforms and name badges. He thanked his lucky stars that Winslow and the judges had long departed the stage, no doubting looking for an escape from the stifling hot spotlights still shining overhead, so brightly that they would have rivaled downtown Pittsburgh in the middle of a sun-drenched, mid-August day.

Justin continued to hold Brian back; oddly, Brian didn't seem to be protesting too much over the fact that he was holding him by his upper arms at the moment. In fact, if he didn't _know better_, by the somewhat satisfied look on the man's face he would swear the man was actually _enjoying it_, in a perverse sort of way.

"I'm _sorry_, Mr. Sterling," Justin told the other man apologetically. "I guess you could say he's…..the _territorial type_," he finally managed to say, as he struggled for the right words; he hoped that Brian wouldn't be offended by his statement, but he had to do SOMETHING to hopefully diffuse the situation and not make matters worse. The LAST thing he wanted right now was to somehow jeopardize his position in the competition. At the beginning, he hadn't been sure he could compete on the same level as these other professionals; now, after he had survived the first two days, there was NO way he wanted to leave, not before he could prove to himself that he could, indeed, compete with the "Big Dogs."

"Yeah….I noticed,"he responded, glaring back at Brian with steely eyes. "Well, from NOW on, keep the fucking tiger CAGED, okay?" he snapped; his eyes flashing angrily, he slowly limped away toward the steps, shaking his head.

Justin released the breath he had been holding before he finally relaxed his grip on Brian as Gus came rushing up to them. "What's _terry turtle,_ Daddy?" he asked curiously. "I don't think that man _liked_ you," he decided firmly as he looked up at his father.

"Yeah, well the feeling's mutual," Brian snarled in aggravation as Justin finally released him completely; he couldn't believe that fucker was hitting once again on Justin; what part of NO did the man NOT understand?

"It's okay, Sonny Boy," Brian reassured the little boy, as he reached down to pat the little head. "The big, bad man won't be bothering Justin anymore," he stated with conviction. He turned to look at the object of his rival as he added, "And just for the record, I'm NOT _Terry Turtle_. I just don't like seeing anyone picked on, that's all." _Especially someone who I think about CONSTANTLY – someone I'm not letting out of my sight AGAIN._ "Come on, Doughboy_, _I'll take you home before your _Scrumptious Buns_ get any MORE _invitations for dinner_."

Justin had to giggle at the absurdity, in spite of himself. Before Gus had a chance to ask what _scrumptious_ meant, Brian quickly scooped his son up in his arms to effectively distract him. "Come on, Gus – we're busting OUT of this one-horse town."

Justin smiled, shaking his head, as he began to walk alongside the pair of males who had both managed to worm their way into his affections. He knew thanks to Brian that his "honor" had been preserved for another day, but he _also_ knew his heart had already been stolen forever.


	27. Chapter 27: Can You Spell H A T E?

The ride home to Justin's apartment this time was a lot different than yesterday. Even though Justin was exhausted once again after the day's activities, even if he _wanted_ to try and rest on the way home it would have been impossible with the constant chatter coming from the back seat through the miniature version of Brian Kinney that was chirping away, totally oblivious to his condition.

"No, Sonny Boy, you _can't_ spend the night tonight," Brian was gently telling his little boy, who promptly curled his lip under in disappointment at the rejection.

Justin exchanged a look of amusement with Brian, who explained patiently to Gus, "Now you know tomorrow is a school day, Buddy. You and Dino can spend the night _tomorrow_ if you want," he offered, hoping to buffer his discouraging words.

_What am I SAYING?, _Brian thought immediately afterward._ There was a DIFFERENT "boy" I was hoping to spend the night with tomorrow….._But it was too late; the words had already been spoken, and by the look of joy on his son's face, he knew he couldn't take it back NOW. He glanced regretfully over at Justin, who smiled back knowingly at the reason for his discomfiture. _Damn fucker knows EXACTLY what I'm thinking and he's enjoying it…._

"Can _Jus'n_ spend the night too?" Gus unexpectedly asked his father, his eyes wide with naivety and hope as he peered over at the blond whose face was quickly turning a bright shade of pink at the thought. Justin remembered all too well the LAST time he had "spent the night" with Brian, and it was definitely NOT a tame _sleep over_. They had gotten perhaps a total of an hour of sleep from the second Brian had practically dragged him to the bed until the next morning when they had continued their fuck-a-thon in the shower. Just the thought of their night together was enough for the blond's pulse to speed up in remembrance of their mind-blowing experience. In one way, it seemed just like yesterday, but on the other hand, so many things had happened since then, it seemed like it had been forever.

Brian smirked. "Sure he can, Sonny Boy…..he's a _BIG BOY, _just like you. What do you say, Justin?" Brian asked, his bottom lip curling under as he looked over innocently at their topic of conversation expectantly. His voice took on more of a husky growl as he softly asked, "Want to spend the night tomorrow with me and Gus?" He would have much preferred a more one-on-one experience, but he figured the night wouldn't be a _total_ bust – after all, his son had to go to sleep SOMETIME. He only hoped his son turned out to be a heavy sleeper, because with what HE had in mind for his and Justin's "slumber party," he knew being quiet wouldn't be a possibility. If he had HIS way, he would be making Justin scream louder than a teenybopper at her first rock star concert.

If it was possible, Brian would have sworn his Doughboy's face turned an even darker shade of pink as the blond stuttered with his response.

"I…..don't _know, _Gus," Justin said somewhat hesitantly, directing his statement to the little boy in the back but never taking his eyes off the boy's _father, _whose own hazel orbs were intently ogling him while they darted back and forth between him and the road. "I may be pretty tired after tomorrow night. Tomorrow's the last day of the cake competition, so I'm not sure what time I'll get done."

"But me and Daddy will _wait_ for you." Gus insisted. "We want you to stay, don't we Daddy?" he asked, his large, expressive hazel eyes peering hopefully over at his father from the back of the car.

Brian pursed his lips together to keep from openly chuckling at his son's game plan – one that closely matched his own. _THAT'S my boy, _he thought fondly, looking at his son in the rearview mirror.

"We sure _do_, Sonny Boy," he answered his child finally when he felt he could maintain a somewhat straight face. "We can play all KINDS of games with Justin tomorrow night, like _Duck, Duck, Goose_ and _Hide and Go Seek_." _Yeah…..he could have a LOT of fun seeking and goosing…_

"Yay!" Gus cried out in delight as he clapped his hands in delight. "I LIKE those games!"

"Yeah…I do TOO, Sonny Boy," Brian replied. "A LOT," he added for emphasis as he glanced over again at their possible "sleepover guest." "Maybe we can even get in a round of _Who Can Eat My….."_

"Brian!" Justin warned him softly before things got out of hand.

"You just HAVE to _sleep over_, Justin," Brian told him, his face a mask of innocence. "Can't you see how much FUN we would have?"

"Yeah, Jus'n, you HAVE to sleep over…_please?" _

Justin glanced back and forth in silence at father and son, whose faces were exact mirrors of each other's. He sighed in resignation, perceptive enough to know he was in trouble. Truth was, he had been in trouble since the first SECOND he had laid eyes on BOTH these "boys"…

He shook his head in defeat and sighed even louder. "I'll see what I can do, Gus," he somewhat noncommittally told the little boy, but his gaze once more was concentrated on the _grown-up_ "boy" sitting next to him and causing his pulse to race just at the thought of being with him again in his loft. He knew the two of them wouldn't exactly be alone – not with Gus there – but once the little boy fell asleep tomorrow, an internal warning message would be flashing inside of him that said _look out_…_danger ahead….._The only question was – did he _welcome_ the danger? He knew if he accepted Gus' invitation, he wouldn't get out of that loft after a couple innocuous rounds of Chutes and Ladders or some face painting. The little boy's father definitely had some more _adult games _in mind…..He was fortunately spared any more debate on the matter, however, as Brian slowed the 'Vette down in front of his apartment.

As Brian turned the car off, he turned reluctantly to address his Doughboy. He hated like hell to say goodnight to him – especially since he couldn't acknowledge it the way he would have liked with his son in the backseat – but he knew his wish to properly be reunited _privately_ with Justin would have to wait. Gus, for once, was uncharacteristically quiet as the two men shared an intimate look. He was so quiet, in fact, that Brian had to turn to check on him in the back, only to discover the little boy had managed to fall asleep somewhere between his jubilation over spending the night with his father tomorrow and his wish for Justin to join them.

Brian smiled at his slumbering son, who was sleeping in his car seat, Dino clutched firmly in his little hand. "He sure likes that damn Dimetrodon," Brian said softly before he turned once again to look at his other passenger. "I guess in a way I own that fucking toy a huge favor."

Justin frowned. "A _favor_?"

Brian smirked. "Yeah…..if it hadn't been for that damn toy, I wouldn't have met the _cake designer_ that needed it so badly." _And now I need the CAKE DESIGNER badly, too….. "_I know how Gus feels now."

Justin stared at the brunet, surprised somehow by what Brian was trying to say. It was so rare for Brian to openly admit his feelings, and more times than not, when he DID, he normally tried to find some way to repudiate it. _This time_, however, he appeared not to be inclined to do that, and it make Justin's heart leap in excitement at the thought. "You _do?_"

Brian peered back at him thoughtfully before responding softly, "Yeah…I do. That little scaly bastard has actually come in handy. Remind me to write the toy manufacturer to thank them for producing such a limited supply."

Justin blushed at the intense look Brian was giving him. He gave the other man a somewhat apologetic glance as he said, "I…..have to go. I'm bushed, and Emmett's picking me up around eleven tomorrow. We need to man our booth for a few hours Friday before the competition starts at 6:00. The kid who's been helping us had some kind of emergency come up and can't take care of it. Maybe it's just as well – I'm going to be so fucking nervous before the competition actually starts it's probably better I have something to occupy my mind with."

"I could think of more _pleasant ways_ to occupy your _mind_, Doughboy," Brian huskily told him; his eyes were practically boring into the sapphire-blue ones that were transfixed by the almost predatory look he was giving him.

Justin sat there, drinking in the other man's scrutiny of him, before he realized how late it must be getting. He tried only half-successfully to stifle a huge yawn as he said sheepishly, "I really need to get to bed, Brian."

Brian smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure you _do_…..you look tired. Do you need some help with that?"

Justin laughed softly. "No, thanks, I think I can manage." He could only IMAGINE what type of _help_ Brian had in mind; somehow, he didn't think the other man's actions would result in a peaceful night's sleep.

Brian smirked, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Well, if you're _sure. _They claim a little _exercise_ helps a person to get to sleep better, though." _You couldn't blame a man for trying_, he thought hopefully, but he knew it would be for naught, especially with his "charge" in the back seat.

Justin rolled his eyes before smiling slightly. "I'm SURE…" Before he actually was tempted to give that idea serious thought, he nodded and quietly opened the door; he hesitated for a few seconds, torn between just saying a quick goodnight to the other man or lingering just a little longer. Throwing caution to the wind, he finally gently closed the door to avoid waking Gus and walked around the back of the car to stand near Brian's open window.

Brian, who was downright elated at Justin's choice, peered up at the blond vision standing next to his car. He couldn't help broadcasting his wish to kiss the other man loud and clear by the intense stare he was giving the blond's lips before he finally moved his gaze slightly upward to peer directly into Justin's eyes, which shone under the streetlamp nearby. Neither wanted to leave the other, but they both knew they HAD to - at least for tonight.

"Well, I'd better go," Justin whispered quietly. "Tell Gus I'll see what I can do about tomorrow," he added, smiling fondly as he looked through the car window at the little boy still peacefully sleeping in the back seat.

"Thanks for the ride, Brian," he added softly; as he turned to leave, he wasn't completely surprised when he felt Brian firmly but gently grip his wrist; his touch both electrified and in a way, terrified him with the intense feelings that such a simple touch generated.

"Justin….."

The blond turned back around slightly to ask somewhat shakily, "Yes?"

"I'll be watching tomorrow…..I WOULD say _good luck_, but you won't NEED it. You'll win the fucking thing _hands down_," Brian said confidently as he continued to gaze at the blond. It was a tender, almost vulnerably naked look that made Justin's heart leap.

He turned his lips upward in a grateful smile before, almost on impulse, he leaned down intending to give Brian a friendly kiss for a few seconds; he felt his adrenalin rise quickly, however, as Brian reached up to grasp the back of his neck possessively to angle their heads better to deepen the kiss.

Several seconds longer than Justin had intended, the two finally came breathlessly up for air. Brian continued to hold Justin's head close to his own for a few seconds longer before nuzzling his nose and saying, "Good night, Doughboy. Come over tomorrow night and I'll show you some _new _games to play."

Justin could feel the other man's breathing, warm and caressing on his face, before Brian reluctantly let him go and he stood up at last. "Good night, Brian," he said softly, before he finally turned around and walked slowly up the sidewalk toward the front door.

He didn't turn around again for fear he would want to go racing back to the man's car for another soul-searing kiss; but as he reached his apartment door upstairs and went inside, he felt the need to walk over to the large, rectangular picture window facing out over the street. Slowly pushing the sheer curtain aside, he stood in the still-darkened apartment watching as Brian seemed to look directly up at the window and intensely gaze back at him once more before the 'Vette's headlights came on and the vehicle slowly pulled out into the street.

_

* * *

_

11:30 a.m. Friday – Final Day of Competition

Emmett whistled, impressed, as they walked into the main entry doors of the Great Exposition Hall. They had arrived approximately 30 minutes before the day's exhibits were due to open to the public, but the main display area was already teeming with people bustling left and right.

"Do you _believe_ this CROWD already?" he exclaimed to his friend; he had to lean down and practically yell into Justin's ear to be heard over the loudspeaker blaring nearby that was advertising the final and most critical day of the _Wedding Cake Wars_ competition. "This place is already packed and the general admission doors haven't even _opened _yet!"

Justin peered around the room, astounded by the huge throng. "This is _unbelievable!_ Where did all these people COME from? The general public can't even get IN yet. Surely these couldn't be ALL display people, could they?" He continued to gape at the frantic pace in the display hall as the two of them slowly shuffled their way through the crowd toward their own booth. At least for a change, they didn't have to bring additional supplies with them; Justin had thankfully already brought all he should need in the last couple of days, so for once they didn't have to maneuver around the hectic crowd with any of their large, plastic crates.

"Whew!" Emmett exclaimed, letting out a large rush of air as they finally scooted into their display booth and stood behind the long, rectangular table which was presently performing double duty as both an exhibit for their best designs as well as protection from the hoards of people rushing by. "I thought for a minute we might need CPR," he joked. "Now if there was a hot-looking guy around, that might be a _good_ thing." As he noticed a somewhat stocky, dark-haired man eyeing him just a little too closely from across the aisle, he muttered to Justin, "On second thought, just let me _die_ instead, okay?"

Justin laughed, despite the butterflies flying fast and furious in his stomach; just thinking about the last day of the competition, especially remembering it was going to be a LIVE telecast, was making him nervous as hell now that the final, momentous day has arrived. And he still had 6 hours to go before it even _started_. Looking over to see which man was peering back at his business partner, he patted his friend's arm reassuringly as he said, "Don't worry, Em – I'll protect you from the _big, bad wolf_ over there. Besides, with THIS crowd, I don't think he could make it over here even if he WANTED to."

"Yeah, you have a point there, Baby," Em replied, even though he continued to eye the other man somewhat warily. Breathing a slight sigh of relief as the burly man eventually turned back to his own booth, Em finally had a chance to examine their individual display area. "Where's the cake stock?" he asked Justin, puzzled, noticing there was a distinct dearth of cake located nearby. Nathan had told them the samples would have to be refrigerated overnight, but hadn't told them where the coolers were located.

Justin pointed a hand toward the right of their booth. "They're in the coolers inside the vending area," he told his friend. "Nathan called me on his cell this morning to tell me where to find them. He apologized for having to bail out on us, but he said he would definitely be back later today by the time we have to return to the auditorium for the competition."

Emmett nodded his understanding. "Want me to help you go get them?" he practically had to shout to be heard.

"No," Justin told him loudly over the din; as the hour approached for the room to open to the public, the noise level was rising even more, along with the excitement being generated; there was definitely an air of electricity in the crowded room that was almost palpable. "I think I can handle it. Just stay put – maybe your suitor will take that as an encouraging sign if you're left alone."

"NOT funny, Baby," Emmett growled. Justin laughed as his friend glanced over a little fearfully across the aisle to make sure his "admirer" was still firmly ensconced behind his own booth before telling Justin to "hurry back."

Slowly threading his way through the crowd, Justin's slighter frame did not allow him the luxury of seeing most of the other attendees milling about nearby; as he picked up their large crate of cake samples at the vending area and meticulously made his way back toward his and Emmett's display booth, he failed to see another man slowly working his way toward him until he was startled by the sound of someone familiar.

"Where's your _bodyguard_?" the British-clipped voice inquired curtly. "I'm surprised he'd let you out of his sight."

Justin paused long enough with his supplies to stare back heatedly at Hayden Sterling, who had seemingly come out of nowhere. "I can take of myself, Mr. Sterling," he retorted rather shortly; he knew Brian had been out of line yesterday when he threw a punch at the man, but the man was still a pompous, cocky boor, and the sooner Justin parted from his company, the better. He only wished he didn't have to endure competing near the man later today, but if he wanted to stay in the competition, he unfortunately had no choice.

"Well, tell your pit bull _boyfriend_ that," the Brit growled; he rubbed his lower jaw where the aftereffects of Brian's punch still remained; the tender flesh beneath his mouth was turning a nice shade of greenish-black from the brunet's jealous punch yesterday. "I should _sue_ that bastard," he snarled. Not only had the man injured his jaw, the worst part was he had injured his _pride_; that was what had hurt most of all and had made him the angriest.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Justin countered testily as he shifted his heavy crate back and forth in his arms. "If you did, I'd have to tell the judges how you were harassing another contestant; from what I read in the rules, I don't think they'd take too kindly to that." The rules the Culinary Channel had sent to him as a contestant a few weeks ago were unbelievably long, tedious and complicated; truthfully, Justin had decided to fuck it all and not read ANY of the rules of conduct; he was hoping at the moment that neither had this OTHER man as he waited somewhat anxiously for the Brit's reply.

The other man seemed to consider that possibility for several seconds as he glared back at Justin before he finally said, "Just make sure the fucker stays AWAY from me, or I won't CARE what the rules say." Justin breathed out a short sigh of relief that apparently the man wasn't going to call his bluff as Sterling finally turned and slowly walked away from him. _One crisis averted…_Justin took a deep breath before he slowly resumed his trek back to his and Emmett's display booth with the crate, not really relaxing until he had reached the relative sanctity provided behind the sample table.

"Run into any problems, Baby?" Emmett asked him curiously as Justin finally returned and he helped the blond lower their sample crate down onto a nearby table; his friend appeared to be flustered for some reason – his face was flushed and his hair was tousled as if he had been in a windstorm.

Justin decided things were already a tangled mess; there was no sense in getting his friend worried about an unrequited, would-be suitor that just happened to also be one of their competitors. "No, Em, I'm fine," he tried to reassure his friend. "Just had some problems navigating the way with this big crate."

Emmett peered into his eyes for few seconds, trying to determine just _what _was going on; he knew his friend well enough to know that _something_ _else_ was bothering him, but for the time being, he decided to just let it drop. He knew Justin had so many hats he was juggling in his life right now that he figured his friend would tell him something if he really needed to know about it.

"Okay, Baby, if you say so," he replied, still not really believing that was the reason for his friend's uneasiness and preoccupation. "You want to put the samples in the same place Nathan had them yesterday?"

Thankful that his friend wasn't pressing him any further regarding his unpleasant encounter with Hayden Sterling, Justin nodded slightly. "Yeah….why don't you start taking the samples out and I'll get the stand for them?"

For the next half hour, the two worked companionably together as they prepared their booth for the last day of the exposition, although Justin's mind was firmly concentrated on two other areas: how his design would be received by the public and the judges later today, and when he might be seeing a certain sexy brunet again.

_

* * *

_

5:30 p.m.

Emmett rubbed his hands briskly together to remove some errant cake crumbs that had stuck to his skin. He exhaled a large breath of air as he said to Justin, "Well, it's a good thing they're wrapping up this part of the Expo soon, because that was our LAST piece of cake! Somehow, I don't think they're going to being swarming around us without any _food_ left!"

Justin smiled, nodding at his friend. "Yeah….I don't think SEEING a piece of cake in our photo album is going to have the same result." He frowned a little. "I thought I'd made enough samples to last through the entire show, but obviously I misjudged it a little." He picked up the large, rectangular cake stand, now empty, and gingerly placed it into their supply crate. Since they had run out of samples now, they had decided to go ahead and tell Nathan to not even bother coming down; they decided just to close up their display and concentrate, instead, on the upcoming cake competition being held nearby. At least, they would be leaving with a lot of excellent feedback over Justin's designs and a lot of potential clients who had taken one of their newly-created business cards, thanks to Brian's advertising genius.

"Ready to clean up and move on to the Auditorium?" Justin asked his friend.

"Sounds good, Baby," Emmett told him. "I guess this is it, huh?" he said, as he reached for one of their photo albums and handed it to Justin.

As he took the object from Emmett's outstretched hand, Justin swallowed a nervous lump that had quickly appeared just at thought of what was to come later that evening, actually in the next half-hour; he couldn't believe the beginning of the live television broadcast was less than 30 minutes away. "Yeah…..This is the night, all right." He rubbed his upper arms with his hands briskly as if he were cold before adding, "I'm really getting nervous now, Em. This is the biggest thing I've ever been involved in. I hope I don't fuck it up. I'm not even sure the judges are going to _appreciate_ my idea."

Em placed the second photo album listing his catering choices in their crate before he turned to face his partner. "Well, if they _don't_, they all a bunch of prissy do-gooders. I SAW your design, Sweetie, remember? And I think it's _fantastic._ Don't you dare change a thing, especially _Oliver_. THAT'S my favorite part."

Justin glanced up at his friend, whose eyes were full of fire at the thought his design might be changed to make it more "acceptable." He recalled Brian's steadfast support of him last night as well; of course, Brian didn't know what his actual design was, however. It was nice in either case, though, to know that at least two of his friends were supporting him. He STILL wasn't sure if he would come out on top – after all, there WERE ten other teams competing who probably all thought THEY would win, too – but he still wasn't going to change his idea, not because of fear that it would be met with scorn or disdain. If he was going to WIN, he was going to do it HIS way.

"Don't worry, Em," he assured his friend as he closed the lid of their crate. "I'm not changing _anything_ about the design." He gave their now-bare booth a final sweeping look to make sure they hadn't missed anything before he added, grinning, "Ready to take this stuff back to the van and get busy with the REAL fireworks?"

Em clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze. "Ready, Baby…..Let's go show 'em how two gay boys do it!"

Justin laughed, relieved to have something to break the tension; he was so glad that his friend would be up there with him on stage. If he had had to do it all alone, he would have been even _MORE_ tense. He nodded his head firmly, and reached up impulsively to give his friend a quick kiss on the cheek. "I couldn't do this without my business partner, you know," he whispered to Emmett gratefully. "We're in this _together_, Em…..just like the couple on the cake topper."

Em grinned back at him sweetly. "I always _was_ a sucker for a happy ending, Sugar, and tonight I see nothing but _good things ahead_," he replied, winking.

Justin glanced up at a nearby clock perched above the refreshment area. "Well, we better get cranking, _partner_, because we have to be at the auditorium in twenty minutes."

* * *

_Grand Auditorium - Same Time_

As the two friends slowly threaded their way back out through the now burgeoning, energized crowd, supplies in hand, Brian was arriving at the auditorium nearby. He was grateful that Lindsey had arrived earlier in the afternoon to scope out some seats that were close to the stage; she had told Brian she could actually work on some paperwork for the art gallery she was doing consulting work for while seated in the auditorium and save them some excellent seats in the process.

As he craned his head around to search for his friend and son, who he had dropped off earlier that morning, he didn't have to look for long; the screech of excitement from his son immediately reached his ears through the clamor of the crowd as he heard an excited "Daddy!" ring out from the third row of the seats. "Over _here_, Daddy!"

He waved and grinned at his son, who was actually _standing_ on Lindsey's lap, waving back in return. Dino, of course, was once again clutched in his other hand as Lindsey wrapped her hands protectively around the little boy's waist to keep him secure.

Brian stole a quick look up to the stage, looking eagerly for his Doughboy; he was slightly disappointed to realize Justin wasn't at his kitchen yet, but he knew he would have to be there soon – it was only fifteen minutes until the evening's competition was set to start, and he knew Justin wouldn't miss it now. There was too much riding on this for him to stop, and he knew how much drive and determination the blond possessed.

Brian slowly shuffled his way in front of other audience members to reach the middle of the aisle where Lindsey and Gus waited for him. He readily grabbed his son into a tight bear hug as the little boy eagerly held his hands out to him. "How's it going, Sonny Boy?" Brian asked him affectionately, wrapping his hands around the little boy's waist and receiving a wet kiss on the cheek in return.

"Good, Daddy!" Gus exclaimed excitedly as Brian sat down next to Lindsey with his son in his lap. "Where's Jus'n?" he asked his father curiously as he tried to crane his neck around some of the people directly in front of him in an unsuccessful attempt to find the blond up on the stage.

"I don't know, Gus," Brian said, leaning in to whisper in his ear so he could hear him better; the constant din of understated excitement was slowly making the volume level rise in the audience; you could tell everyone was eagerly waiting for the televised portion of the competition to start. The last night was _always_ the most anticipated one, since the designers must complete their actual creation and present it to the judges live. Also, the studio audience would be invited to register their own vote as to the best design, so each visitor was anxiously waiting for the events to begin.

Brian leaned in toward Lindsey. "Have you seen him?" he asked, looking around himself to try and find Justin. He stole a quick look at his watch, noticing the contest was due to start in thirteen minutes. "He's cutting it awfully close," he said, beginning to worry that something might have happened.

"No, I haven't seen him in _here_, but when I was over at the exhibition hall earlier this afternoon, I DID see him and Emmett at their booth and had a chance to talk to him for a few minutes. He was definitely looking forward to tonight, so I'm sure he and Emmett will be here any minute," she reassured him. She never thought she would see the day when her friend was looking forward to seeing a cake competition; of course, with Brian, it wasn't the _competition_ he was mainly intrigued with - it was the DESIGNER. She smiled somewhat smugly, congratulating herself internally that she had been right about the two of them all along.

As if on cue, Brian saw a flash of blond out of the corner of his eye and immediately honed in on the object of his interest and desire. Justin came rushing in from the left side of the stage with Emmett closely in tow behind. Brian watched intently as the two men hurried toward their designated kitchen, grabbing their caps and aprons to don before rapidly retrieving two large supply crates they had stashed under their table.

"There he is, Sonny Boy," Brian whispered in his son's ear, not able to take his eyes off the blond dynamo scurrying around the stage as if he owned it. Under the bright spotlights, Justin's hair shone brightly and his pale skin seemed to glow. Brian thought he looked like the hottest, most incredible creature he had ever seen. The man _owned_ the stage.

Gus immediately asked, "Where, Daddy?" as Brian pointed him out to his son.

A slight sense of déjà vu permeated Brian's mind as Gus once more screamed out, "Hi, Jus'n!" and earned a look in his direction. As Justin looked out in the audience, his eyes quickly scanned the center of the seats where the greeting had come from before finally lighting on a little boy sitting somewhat restlessly on the lap of an older, spitting image of him.

Hazel and blue eyes locked onto each for several seconds as Justin's face lit up with a beaming smile, making the man seem ever MORE incredible. Brian couldn't help smiling back at the blond, who waved at an ecstatic Gus.

Emmett watched the two interacting curiously, not quite surprised that, despite their ups and downs, the two were _still_ obviously intensely attracted to each other. He had realized that from the second Brian Kinney had set his eyes on his friend, and he _knew_ how Justin had quickly lost his heart to the other man, only to have it broken later. It appeared, however, that their differences had apparently been resolved from the powerful, yet tender looks the two were giving each other.

After several seconds, Justin apparently realized he needed to get back to business, because he reluctantly tore his gaze away from Brian and looked back at his friend, who was staring at him silently, a smug, knowing look on his face.

Justin rolled his eyes. "_What_?"

"Nothing, Baby, nothing," Em said quietly. "I guess I really wasn't a hundred percent convinced that Mr. Kinney was being on the level with you the other day. But…..I'm beginning to think maybe he _was_, from the look he was just giving you." He glanced back at the brunet down in the audience, who was still eyeing Justin as if he would disappear any moment. "I think Mr. Kinney really DOES have it bad for you, and not for just a one-time fling." Emmett had actually thought that from the first time he had seen the two together, but until now he had almost been afraid that he had been wrong. Now, though, as he watched the almost hungry exchange between his business partner and the sexy ad exec, he decided his initial impression had definitely been correct after all. "He'd better treat you _right _though, Baby," he vowed in a whisper, "or he'll be answering to ME. And I can swing a mean spatula when I need to."

Justin grinned. "I have confidence that you'll protect my virtue, Em….But just don't protect me _too_ much – A boy needs to have _fun_, too."

Emmett's eyes twinkled. "A man after my _own_ heart!" He said, giving Justin a short pat on his capped head. Their attention was turned to the loudspeaker overhead, which squawked raucously as it was turned on.

"Attention, competitors! You have _five minutes_ to retrieve your partially-completed designs and return to your kitchens for the start of this evening's activities! Five minutes, ladies and gentlemen!" The speaker intoned urgently.

The buzz in the crowd that had been slowly building to an understated sense of excitement rose to a higher pitch as the start of the last day of competition neared. Justin took a deep breath, his pulse beginning to race as he realized this was IT – the culmination of all their hard work this week was about to come to a thrilling crescendo. By the end of the night, he and Emmett would learn if all their hard work – and his extremely unorthodox design idea – would be good enough and be met with enough positive feedback to win them at least one of the top three prizes.

He took out deep breath and let it out before saying to Emmett, "Ready to roll, partner?"

Emmett smiled at him and winked. "You bet. Want me to go get the cake? The way everyone's rushing around up here, with YOUR track record this week you'd probably _drop_ the thing before it got back here," he teased his friend, who smacked him in mock offense.

"Hey, I only tripped _twice_ this week, I'll have you know," he bantered back. "But if it will make you feel better, knock yourself out – so to speak," he said, grinning. "While you go get the cake, I'll get the supplies ready. I want to start right away on the cannon and floor of the ship so I can get the three masts done next."

As Emmett nodded and hurried off to retrieve their partially-finished cake, Justin busied himself locating the design instruments and fondant he would need for the cannon and wooden floor. If all went well, he hoped to actually be able to make the cannon appear to have been freshly-fired with the use of some special effects. When it was all done, however, it would be the cake topper that would be the showpiece of the design.

He was so busy preparing for the next stage of his design that he hadn't noticed Emmett had been gone much longer than it should have taken to just retrieve the cake from the refrigerator and return.

"Mr. Taylor?" Justin turned around at the sound of someone calling his name. He noticed a dark-haired man nearby, wearing a navy-colored uniform and hat with a badge that read "_William Morris, Pittsburgh Expo Security_" on it.

Justin frowned at the unexpected visitor. "Yes?" he asked with a little trepidation. After everything that had happened in his relatively young life, he couldn't help reacting to authority with just a little wariness.

"Your teammate needs to see you right away over at the refrigerators," the man told him.

Justin narrowed his brows in concern, trying to look around the masses of people scurrying around the stage to locate his friend. It was no use, however; there were simply too many people nearby to see anything on the other side of the stage. "Is he all right?" he asked the guard.

"He's fine," the man assured him to Justin's great relief. "But you're needed over at the refrigerators right away."

Justin nodded, still frowning in confusion. _What in the hell was GOING on?_ Maybe Emmett really HAD tripped with their cake; that would definitely be ironic. All sorts of scenarios rushed through his head as he tried to make his way over to the other side of the stage as fast as the crowd would allow, having to shuffle left and right as if in a maze in order to do so. It took him at last two minutes to slowly make his way over to the other side of the room toward the commercial refrigerators holding all of the contestants' designs.

As he neared the cooling units, he noticed three or four additional security personnel milling about, apparently interviewing people on the stage. He also recognized a couple of the judges nearby, who were speaking to the show's host, Paul Winslow in hushed tones.

As Justin _finally_ saw Emmett, the other man met his gaze with a look of utter devastation and sympathy. "Justin…" he began to say, his voice flecked with pain and disgust as he met the confused gaze of his partner, who was relived that at least his friend was okay and their cake wasn't lying in pieces on the ground nearby.

Justin shook his head slightly as if trying to silently ask his friend what in the world was wrong, but once he saw their cake lying inside the open refrigerator door, he didn't really have to ask. His voice seemed to have lost all capacity to speak, anyway, as he viewed the mangled remains of their creation. The large black words of _FAGS GO HOME_ were explanation enough.


	28. Chapter 28: Down But Not Out!

Justin stood there gaping at what remained of their cake; his eyes were registering the reality of what he saw, but his _heart_ hadn't quite reached the same conclusion yet. How could anyone be so narrow-minded and vindictive? He and Emmett had worked so hard – so _damn_ hard – not only during the competition, but just to get their business off the ground. And now, someone had tried to virtually wipe all their hard work away in an instant of vengence.

He was tempted to just stand there, living up to the scared little faggot the hatemonger wanted him to be. It was all too much to comprehend. He and Emmett hadn't hurt anyone by competing; they were working just as hard as everyone else. Didn't they deserve the same chance to succeed? How could someone DO this to them?

He felt a hand land gently on his shoulder before giving it a squeeze. "I'm so sorry, Baby," Emmett told him softly. "You worked so hard on that, too."

"No, Emmett," Justin finally whispered. "WE worked hard on it – we're a team, remember? I couldn't have gotten all of it done without you." He shook his head in disgust and incredulity. "I just can't believe someone would _DO_ this. Oh, I knew these kinds of things happened – I know TOO well – but a fucking _cake competition? _Why, Em? I just don't get it."

Emmett leaned down to speak directly in his ear in an attempt to be heard; the crowd was beginning to buzz louder and louder over what was going on up on stage. So far, there had been no announcements to notify either the in-person crowd or the live television audience what was going on, although the official clock had started its five-hour countdown a couple of minutes ago. "It's called being a _homophobic bigot_, Baby," he said simply.

"Mr. Taylor?" Justin turned around to observe the same security guard who had fetched him earlier. "The sponsor's exhibit coordinator would like to speak with you about your cake and find out if you have any idea who might have been behind this."

Justin sighed in discouragement. "I'll speak to him – or her – but I have NO idea who did this. Whoever did it, though, is a very sick person. I don't know what they thought they would accomplish by sabotaging my cake." He shook his head, still unable to fully grasp what had happened, practically in the blink of an eye. His hopes of placing well in the competition appeared to have just been shot to hell.

"If you'll come with me, then," the security guard said.

Emmett nodded at him. "Go ahead, Baby – I'll watch over the cake – at least what's _left of it_." He twisted his lips at the irony as Justin nodded back at him sadly and turned to follow the guard over to the sponsor's representative.

* * *

Brian hadn't taken his eyes off Justin from the moment the blond had entered the staging area; after several minutes, he had watched as Emmett had left, presumably to go get their cake at the loudspeaker's urging. Brian continued to observe Justin as a man, dressed apparently in a security guard's uniform, approached him. He saw Justin follow the uniformed man over to the commercial refrigerators where Emmett was standing there, but it was so crowded around that area that Brian could only make out Justin's blond head in the tight throng. _What in the fuck was going on? Justin should have started several minutes ago._ He grew concerned as the other pairs of competitors began Day 3 of their entry while Justin and Emmett continued to stand by the refrigerators. He knew Justin's work ethic was stellar; it wasn't like him to start late, especially on something this important. There was definitely something not right...

Brian wasn't the _only_ one that noticed the peculiarity. "What do you think is _going on_?" Lindsey asked curiously, leaning over toward him to be heard above the constant din of the crowd; between Paul Winslow droning on about the various cake designs with a decidedly saccharine tone and the audience wondering what was going on by the refrigerators, it was hard to hear each other at the moment.

"Justin and Emmett haven't even _started _yet – what's THAT all about, I wonder?" She jiggled Gus lightly on her lap as the boy fidgeted. Apparently if she didn't find something to occupy her boy's attention soon, it was going to be an extremely LONG evening.

Brian noticed his son's agitation as well before he glanced back up at the stage to watch Justin finally follow the same security guard over to the side of the stage, even though he STILL couldn't quite see Justin's face. _This is getting damn peculiar_, he thought, as he became more and more worried. SOMETHING was definitely going on, and it didn't look good.

Suddenly spotting someone familiar, he leaned over to Lindsey and said, "I don't know…Why don't I take Sonny Boy over to the refreshment booth, though, and get him something to eat? Looks like Justin and Emmett are going to be delayed, anyway."

"Good idea," Lindsey agreed readily, smiling gratefully. "Let me know if you find out anything, okay?"

Brian nodded as he reached for his son and, standing up with the little boy in his arms, he slowly shuffled out of the row toward the aisle. Walking toward the stage area, he kept a close eye on Justin, who had moved to stand toward the rear, again with the security guard. This time, however, there was a woman standing with both men as they conversed; the subject, however, was still unknown to Brian but he was dying of curiosity.

Determined to find out what was going on, he placed his son gently on the ground and, taking his hand securely, walked with Gus over to the left side of the stage. "Bennett!" he called out over the loud buzz; he noticed to his consternation that security guards were standing watch at either side of the stage, apparently to prevent anyone unauthorized from entering.

Bennett Rodgers, who was standing on the stage near the stairs, turned at the sound of his name being called. Smiling slightly at his friend, he descended the steps to meet Brian, who was quickly approaching him. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the great Mr. Kinney….I didn't know you were into cake baking. Or is it maybe the _BAKER_ instead?" he asked perceptively. He knew from the start the REAL reason why his former college pal was so interesed in Taylor competing, and it wasn't because the man made a mean devil's food cake...

"Cut the crap, Rodgers…..Tell me what's going on with Justin," he demanded curtly. He knew if anyone knew what was going on, it would be this know-it-all man.

Rodgers took hold of Brian's sleeve and pulled him toward a more isolated part of the room. "Shh…nothing's been announced yet about it. Keep your voice down," he retorted. "This is not exactly positive publicity, you know."

"No, I DON'T know, Rodgers!" Brian snapped. "Just tell me what the fu….." He glanced over at Gus, whose eyes – and EARS – were soaking in everything being said. "Tell me what's going ON!" he demanded again harshly. "Why aren't Justin and Honeycutt working on their cake? And why is he speaking to security? What's happened?" He was getting more and more worried that something terrible must have transpired if Rodgers didn't want the news to get out.

Rodgers eyes darted quickly back and forth to make sure no one was close enough to overhear them before he whispered, "Sabotage – THAT'S what. Someone tore his cake practically to pieces and wrote, "_Fags Go Home_" on it. I'd say it's ruined. There's NO WAY he can compete now."

Brian looked at him, shocked; this was the _last thing_ he expected his friend to say. Someone ruined Justin's cake? The one he had worked so hard on the past two days – the one that was supposed to be guarded?

"I thought there was security for all the designer's cakes – what the hell happened, Rodgers?" he said scathingly.

"Hey, don't go blaming ME for this, Kinney! I wasn't in charge of the security! That was a whole different company than MINE! So don't go jumping down MY throat, just because _your boy_ can't compete any more – I did what I was asked to do, okay?"

Brian's breathing was ragged and heavy as he tried to calm himself; he didn't want to go off in front of his son, but he was _FURIOUS. _He knew Rodgers wasn't really to blame, but he needed to blame SOMEONE. How DARE some homophobic prick decide who could – or _couldn't_ – compete? And knowing Justin – how proud, independent, and stubborn he was – this had to be extremely upsetting to him. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to: 1) find the bastard who had done this and rip him a new one, and 2) take Justin in his arms and tell him he was fantastic, no matter WHAT happened tonight. Unfortunately, at the moment, he was unable to do neither.

"I need to talk to him," Brian said impulsively. "Get me up on the stage." He had to tell Justin that it didn't matter - he didn't have to prove to him how wonderful he was - he already _knew_ that.

Rodgers looked at him as if he were deformed – or at the very least, _deranged_. "Are you CRAZY? We just had a security breach of major proportions during a nationally-televised contest – the first – and now probably LAST – one Pittsburgh's ever managed to host, and you want me to get you up on the STAGE?"

He shook his head emphatically. "No WAY, Brian – I've given you _enough _favors. I want to KEEP my job. You're just going to have to wait down here just like everyone else. I can't help you," he said flatly. He noticed one of the security guards motioning for him up on stage. Hurrying away, he said, "I have to go. Just go back to your seat and wait there….I have to come up with a good way of explaining this incident to the audience that won't make us all look like a bunch of bigots."

His face red with frustration and anger, Brian watched, indignant, as his old friend walked away and trotted up on stage. _Damn it_. He really needed to speak with Justin and find out if he was all right. But there were so many guards ringing both sides of the stage now near the steps, he knew there was no way he would be granted access, not without the proper credentials.

"Daddy?" he heard his son calling him; he had been holding tightly onto his hand for the past several minutes to make sure he stayed put. He could tell by his little boy's face, however, that he was getting restless. "You said you'd get me something to eat….I'm hungry," he pressed, his soft eyes wide with impatience.

Brian peered down at his son and sighed, some of the anger diffusing as he gazed at the innocent little face. _What a shame my son can't stay so blissfully ignorant forever_, he thought sadly. "Okay, Sonny Boy," he said softly, glancing once more up at the stage to try and find Justin. The crowd of mainly security personnel had disbursed somewhat from the center of the competition area, so Brian could at least make out Justin's face now. He still couldn't catch his attention yet, but he could tell from the look on his Doughboy's face that he was definitely upset. His eyes were shining with unshed tears and his face appeared to be a mixture of sadness and anger.

"Daddy!" his son urged him again, stomping one of his feet in exasperation. "I want a _hamburger!_ I'm _hungry, Daddy!"_ he said, pouting now as he gazed up at his father. He tried to pull his father toward the refreshment stand but was not successful.

Brian smiled tenderly at his eager son. "Okay, okay, Gus," he said as he reluctantly walked with the little boy toward the refreshment booth. "We'll get you something to eat, Buddy." As he stopped to stand in line to place an order, he glanced once more back at the stage. _Look at me, Justin_, he silently beseeched the other man, but it was no use. Justin was so caught up in the awful maliciousness of the coward's actions that he had eyes only for what remained of his creation as he talked with Emmett near the refrigerator.

Brian couldn't see what remained of Justin's cake, but SURELY there was _something _that could be done. Was it totally destroyed, or did parts of it still remain? He had some idea how long it took for Justin to complete his work, but he ALSO knew that when he HAD to, the blond could work miracles. Could this be one of those times perhaps?

As he and Gus continued to stand in line for their order, a sudden inspiration hit him. Reaching in his pocket to retrieve his cell phone, he flipped it open and began to type. A minute later, he finally smiled as he hit the _send_ button. As the man behind the food booth called out to him, he flipped the phone shut and placed his order.

* * *

"I still can't believe it, Baby," Emmett said, shaking his head. All around them, the rest of the competitors busily continued with their creations, heading toward the culmination tonight of the grand prize winner. Things had been going so well, and now this. He knew hate was alive and well all over the place, but a _cake competition_? The depths that people would go to when they were challenged or scared, even, still continued to astound him.

Justin took a deep breath before letting it out. "I know, Em…..I see it but I STILL don't quite believe it." Just when he thought he had seen - and experienced - it all, something new occurred to smash that belief to smitherans. He only wished this hadn't been one of those times...He had been so excited over the idea for his creation and the opportunity to showcase it, to make a statement. Now that goal was crushed, just like his cake.

"You don't have any idea who could have done this?" Em asked his friend; he had stayed after Justin had left last night, as well as the night before, and everyone he had met had been nothing but kind – if not effusive – about their participation. They were excited about Justin being so young and holding up so well in the competition in the face of much older - and more experienced - designers. Could one of them have actually been the saboteur, instead? Were they just merely _pretending_ to be encouraging? Or did they turn into a hateful bigot when they somehow figured out both he and Justin were gay? Why did that frighten anyone, anyway? It wasn't like they were forcing themselves – or their beliefs – on anyone else. He just didn't understand.

Justin considered that question – truth was, he had a possible idea, but he couldn't just go around blaming Hayden Sterling without any proof. The man certainly SEEMED angry enough earlier today to have done something like this, but he was fairly certain the man was gay himself – after all, he had asked him out to dinner. Did he do this, though, as retaliation for what Brian had done to him last night and with the thought that no one would accuse a gay man of this type of crime? The security guards had dusted for fingerprints as well as they could, but if the person was a competitor, chances are they had ready access to gloves of some type – it wouldn't have been difficult, then, to prevent any fingerprints from appearing anywhere near their cake. It appeared the perpetuator – whoever he or she was – was probably going to get away with their cowardly deed unscathed. Perhaps THAT was what bothered Justin most of all.

"I have an idea," he admitted at last to Emmett, who peered over at him interestedly. "But it's just a theory, Em. I can't prove it, so there's really no point in mentioning it."

Emmett was about to refute that statement when he noticed Justin jump at little as the blond's cell phone buzzed, signaling he had a text message. The contestants were prohibited from keeping their ringer on during the contest, so Justin had changed it to vibrate instead.

Justin reached in his pocket to grab his phone and flipped it open to read the message. His eyes filled with tears as he read:

_I believe in you, Doughboy – you can do it. Prove the fucker wrong! B_

Justin had to smile, a lump forming in his throat at the man's unexpected overture of encouragement and his conviction. He looked around quickly down into the audience in an attempt to find Brian, but all he saw was Lindsey sitting by herself. _Where had Brian gone_? He figured he must be with Gus, because he was gone from his seat as well. "Em….have you seen Brian and Gus lately?" He knew they had been there just a few minutes ago.

Emmett shook his head. "No, Baby, not lately. I saw them earlier sitting down in the audience. Why?"

Justin shook his head slightly, preferring to keep Brian's message just between the two of them. Brian's words of encouragement, however, seemed to have the right effect on him, though. He turned to walk the few steps back to the refrigerator to stare anew at their mangled design. _Could he? _He began to look at it from a different perspective. If BRIAN - the advertising genius - thought he could do it, maybe, just maybe, he _could_...

"Em…how much white fondant do we have left, do you know?" he asked suddenly, still staring at their cake as he sized it up with new eyes.

"At least 2 or 3 boxes – you always go overboard, you know," Emmett teased him. "Why?" he asked, puzzled. After all, they wouldn't be needing it NOW.

"What about the Rice Krispies – do we still have that extra box in the supplies?" he asked, his voice rising with renewed inspiration.

"Yeah….I _think_ so." Emmett looked at him as an preposterous idea popped into his head. "Don't tell me….you're thinking of FIXING_ this?_" He asked, shocked. His eyes grew wide as he looked down at what remained of Justin's cake. _Was it possible even_?

Justin smirked and then grinned up at his friend, nodding. "Yeah, Partner….that's _EXACTLY_ what I'm thinking….call me crazy, but if you're willing to work your fashionable little ass off, I think just maybe I can. Are you willing to _try_?"

Emmett looked over at his friend in astonishment. _Could they really pull it off? _He wasn't sure, but if Justin thought they could, who was he to argue with the creative mastermind? He smiled back at his friend and said firmly, "You BET, Picasso…..Tell me what you what me to do, and let's get this baby patched back up. We may be down, but we are NOT out….at least not out of the _competition_," he added, his eyebrows waggling.

Justin smiled broadly now, feeling like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He knew it was going to be a long shot, but the more he looked at the severely-damaged cake, the more he thought that maybe he COULD get it back together. After all, with new fondant, the damaged cake wouldn't really be noticeable underneath, and it would also hide those hideous, horrible words of hate.

Convinced more than ever now that his idea needed to be presented in front of not only the studio audience but also the _rest_ of the country, he said with certainty, "Well then, partner," he said as he reached into the refrigerator. "Help me get this sad-looking thing back over to our kitchen and let's get started." As they slowly grasped the hard, wooden cake base by the bottom and slowly began to move the design from the refrigerator back over to their table, Justin finally spied the man he was hoping to see.

"Everything okay, Baby?" Emmett asked his friend, when he noticed him stopping for some reason.

Justin smiled at Emmett's question but he did not look back at him; he was too busy locking his gaze onto a pair of hazel orbs staring back at him from the side of the stage. Brian smiled at Justin, waggled his eyebrows and gave him a "thumbs up" as he nodded his approval. Justin returned the man's gaze with a lopsided smile of his own, his eyes filling with tears of gratitude for the man who was giving him the encouragement to go on, before he replied, "Everything's _fine_, Em….let's do it!"

As they gently placed their damaged cake down on the designer table, Justin could hear Winslow speaking to the crowd over his microphone, apparently at a loss as to just what to say now that he and Emmett had just totally changed what the man was about to say. Winslow had been told to make up some type of story that due to "technical difficulties," he and Emmett would not be able to proceed in the competition. _Well, Buddy, surprise!_, Justin thought smugly. _The son of a bitch that tried to keep me out of this didn't win….at least not yet._ Justin still wasn't quite sure he could fix the mess that stood in front of him, almost like the remnants of a tornado, but by God, he was going to _TRY_. He was NOT going to let that asshole beat him. He may not win, but he sure as hell was going to give it his best shot.

"Okay, Baby," Emmett said, rubbing his hands almost in glee at the thought of beating the unnamed bigot at his own name. "Tell me what you need me to do, and my _little fashionable ass _is all YOURS."

Justin grinned as he looked down at his cake, making some calculations mentally in his head. Upon a closer inspection of the cake, he felt even more convinced he could fix it; the only question was whether he would have enough TIME. "Well, first thing I need is another batch of the Rice Krispie mix so I can fix the waves again – they don't look salvageable. While you'll doing that, I'll get another box of the fondant and start trying to repair the cake base, okay?"

Emmett nodded, smiling. "You got it – one more batch of Snap, Crackle, and Pop coming up, Baby – give me 20 minutes." Justin nodded briefly before rushing over to one of their supply crates to pull out an extra box of the rolled fondant. Intently caught up in his work, he didn't even hear their host proclaiming over the speaker – and live television microphone – that the "technical difficulties" that had been experienced by the _Cakes of Art_ team had been "fortunately cleared up" and they were now back in the competition.

Brian returned to his seat with Gus balanced on his knee; the little boy held a hamburger in one hand as Brian juggled a drink in his own hand as they slowly sat down next to Lindsey. As Gus happily munched on his hamburger, she leaned over to whisper to her friend, "Did you find out what happened? I saw Justin's cake when he brought it back over to their table, and it looked like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it or something. But it looks like he's STILL going to try and fix it somehow." She watched intently as Justin concentrated on smoothing over the bottom layer of his cake with a new roll of fondant. From her vantage point, the hateful words were fortunately hidden from view; Justin had decided not to add any more fuel to the fire by exposing the vile words to the public, at least not until later when he would be sure to point out just what lengths ignorant, homophobic people would go to in hopes of preventing him from competing.

Brian hesitated as he watched Justin's progress closely, not sure just how much he should tell his friend. He finally decided he really didn't have a good reason to keep it from her. "You remember Bennett Rodgers, don't you?" he asked, never taking his eyes off Justin up on the stage as he spoke.

She nodded as she glanced over at him. "Yeah…he's in charge of scheduling all the exhibits here, isn't he?" She had met Rodgers back in school when she and Brian had attending the same college together. She hadn't really given him much thought since then, though - to her, the man had been an insufferable jerk.

"Yeah, well I saw him over by the stage a while ago when I went to get Gus something to eat, and he told me somebody damaged Justin's cake sometime before the competition started tonight."

She gasped in shock. "Oh, my God! That's _awful_! No WONDER Justin looked so upset! That explains all the security people up there. Did they find out who DID it?" She shook her head in disgust that someone would go to that sort of length to try and prevent Justin and Emmett from competing.

Brian shook his head, his own expression of hatred resembling her own. "No….Rodgers said they're investigating, but supposedly no one saw anything, even though there was security all over the place. How _convenient_," he said dryly, his voice full of sarcasm. _He knew damn well SOMEBODY knew something, and if he found out WHO did it, they couldn't run far enough away to get away from HIM._

Lindsey shook her head. "Poor Justin," she said sympathetically. "But he must think somehow he can still repair it. Do you think it's possible?" she said skeptically as she looked over at their kitchen area where the two men were bent over the table, fully absorbed now in their tasks.

Brian nodded his head as he continued to gaze at the determined blond up on stage, frantically reshaping his cake back into its former shape. "You BET I do," he said firmly. "You BET I do."


	29. Chapter 29: I Yam What I Yam

_Grand Auditorium – One Hour Later_

"Welcome back, Ladies and Gentlemen, to the final day of _Wedding Cake Wars!"_ Once again, the almost sickly-smooth, overly-practiced baritone voice of Paul Winslow boomed out over the audience as the second hour of the last day of the competition relentlessly marched on.

As the host stood in front of the studio audience, speaking not only to the Expo visitors below but also the millions of television viewers watching events unfold as they occurred live, he continued his narration. "We had a slight inconvenience with the team's design from _Cakes of Art_, but that seems to have been straightened out, and now the youngest member to ever participate in one of these events, 22-year-old Pittsburgh artist, Justin Taylor, appears to be back on track, no doubt a testament to his dedication and talent."

As the man continued to drone on, Justin shook his head in disgust as Emmett muttered in his ear, "A _slight INCONVENIENCE?" _He was busily helping Justin to spray some icing paint onto one of the waves that the blond had hurriedly re-cut from the most recent batch of the Rice Krispies mix that Emmett had hastily remade.

"Yeah, the man definitely has a way with understatement, doesn't he?" Justin let out an audible sigh and stood up briefly to stretch out his back as he tried to release some of his stress; he had been hunched over the cake now for the past hour, furiously repositioning a new roll of white fondant in time for the waves to be repositioned into place once Emmett was ready for him. Fortunately, true to his word, Emmett had finished with the mixture in approximately twenty minutes, just in time for Justin to begin replacing all of the wave pieces that had been previously destroyed.

"Em, hand me the tub of icing," he asked; it was time to attached the painted waves to the cake base, which was what he had intended to do initially when they had first arrived. The vandal had put a halt to _that_ idea, but Justin was gratified to realize that that was ALL the fucker had managed to do; if he didn't accomplish anything else tonight – if he didn't even _place _in the competition – he was going to FINISH this cake, one way or the another, and it was going to be with his _original_ plan. It was important that he follow through on that idea, NOW more than ever.

"Here you go, Baby," Em told him as he handed the round, plastic tub of icing to his partner. "What can I do?" he asked.

Justin smiled, once again grateful that his friend had pushed aside his own catering part of their business these past few days to help him accomplish his own goal. Of course, if he could come out even with a _smidgen_ of good publicity from this event, it would be worth it for _both_ of them in increased business for their shop.

He thought quickly as he began to slather on some of the icing to attach the waves. "Uh….can you go over to the cupboard and find the liquid smoke for the cannon? And then take some of the leftover Rice Krispie mixture and see if you can start rolling out a tube, I'd say about six inches long and about an inch in diameter."

Emmett frowned. "A tube?"

Justin turned slightly around from his work and smiled at his friend's confusion. "Yeah….you know, kind of like those toy snakes you'd make as a kid with Playdoh© by rolling it between your hands?" He quickly demonstrated what he meant by putting his icing brush down in the tub and rubbing his hands briskly in an up and down motion, palm to palm, together.

He saw the flicker of understanding quickly appear in his friend's eyes as he smiled back at him. "Oh…..NOW I get it! For the cannon's _barrel_!"

As Justin nodded with a grin, Emmett winked at him and said, just before he left to go get the liquid smoke, "I'll just act like I'm making a miniature dildo. _Piece of cake_."

Justin had to laugh at that comment, so typically Emmett. He was amazed how much better he felt now, and how everything suddenly looked so much brighter than it had just an hour ago; he knew he owed most of that fact to the man who was currently sitting down in the audience with his friend and his son.

At the thought of Brian, he stole a quick glance over toward the studio audience, and smiled softly as he noticed the brunet sitting back in his customary spot, Gus perched on his lap with the famous _Dino_ once more clutched possessively in his hand. Both "men" waved at him and smiled as he looked at them; Lindsey, too, smiled encouragingly back at him. He luxuriated in their support briefly before he forced himself to turn back to the project at hand and continue working.

Fifteen minutes later, Justin finally stood back from the table to scrutinize his quickly-emerging design; he now had the base layer covered and repaired to his satisfaction, and the waves back where they belonged; now came the task of shaping the large schooner from the second cake he and Emmett had baked yesterday. Fortunately, whoever the vandal was, he or she hadn't noticed this other large sheet cake, lying undecorated, at the bottom shelf of the same refrigerator; if he or she HAD, there would have no way for Justin to have completed his design in time today.

Justin was encouraged by his ability to catch up so quickly thus far; as Emmett busily worked on using some leftover white fondant to cover the three, medium-sized Rice Krispie triangles that would eventually become the ship's masts, the blond hurried over toward their refrigerator to retrieve the other sheet cake. As he passed by the nearby kitchen design area of Team #10, _Scrumptious Buns_, he couldn't help noticing one man staring at him with an undecipherable expression on his face.

Justin could tell that Hayden Sterling wasn't happy – he was practically dripping icicles at him as he walked close by – but whether it was due to resentment, hatred, unrequited attraction, or simply just anger over not being able to exact revenge on him, he wasn't sure. Justin _still_ felt fairly certain that THIS was the person who had tried to prevent him from proceeding further in the competition, but without being sure, he was powerless to prove it. He turned briefly to study the other man, silently letting him know that if he HAD been the perpetrator, he had NOT been successful, before he finally turned his back on the other man and walked confidently toward the refrigerator to open the door.

"Mr. Taylor?" Justin's heart sunk as he recognized that voice; he had been hoping to avoid their erstwhile host the rest of the afternoon as he anxiously tried to catch up with the other teams. It appeared, however, that he was not going to be so lucky.

As he turned around with the cake's tray in his hands, he noticed the host was apparently speaking to him live; he had a microphone in his hand and several cameramen were grouped around him; the red lights on each one indicating they were being used while he spoke. For now, then, he would just have to grin and bear it, or appear to be an asshole on national television and to the studio audience who would soon be voting on their favorite design.

Deciding, then, that _this_ was not the time to brush the other man off, he tried hard to paste a polite smile on his face as he said, "Yes?"

"Any comments on what happened to you this morning?"

Justin's eyebrows rose; was the man actually wanting him to divulge exactly what had happened this morning? He had been under the impression that the sponsor had wanted to keep the actual reason under wraps; Justin hadn't really liked that idea, however, but he had been so busy up until now just trying to catch up that he simply hadn't time to speak to anyone about it. Now, however, it appeared that he was about to be given that opportunity. _Well, Pal, you asked….._

"As a matter of fact, I _would_," he said curtly. As Winslow stood there silently for a change, and the cameras softly recorded every nuance and voice, Justin spoke directly into the microphone as he faced both the show's host and the studio audience, which were directly behind Winslow's back.

"When my business partner and I arrived this evening to continue our work in the competition, we discovered that someone had attempted to destroy our work by maliciously _damaging_ it," he reported; a surprised gasp rose from the seated audience, who was hearing this information for the first time.

He suddenly saw a movement out of the corner of his eye from the stage's left side, where someone was frantically trying to use hand signals to apparently tell Winslow to cut the interview off; Justin surmised this was no doubt someone representing the program's sponsors, who did not think it would behoove them to reveal to their studio or television audience that a hateful, prejudicial vandal was among those at the competition. Justin, however, pretended not to notice, and Winslow thankfully didn't even see the person as he continued his interview.

"Why do you think someone would have _done_ that?" he asked curiously; he had not even been told the entire story _himself_; he had just been told in no uncertain terms to instruct the audience that the _Cakes of Art_ team was unable to continue competing _due to technical difficulties_, circumstances that, to his embarrassment and consternation, had apparently been cleared up just before he was to utter that speech. Now, however, it appeared that there was a lot moe to it than that.

Justin took a deep breath; he was not usually in the habit of exposing his sexual orientation on national television – not that he was ashamed of it – but at the same time, he didn't necessarily feel a need to flaunt the fact, either. Right now, however, he could think of nothing better to do than tell this captive audience just what sort of environment they were dealing with.

"Because some homophobic, (mindful of television censors, he quickly had to bite back the word he REALLY wanted to use) narrow-minded bigot felt a need to try and dictate who could or couldn't compete in this competition," he said clearly, as a distinct buzz arose from the crowd. He couldn't make out if the reaction was positive or not, and right then, he really didn't _care_….the most important issue to him at the moment was making sure that everyone knew what had happened. _Let the chips fall where they may…._

"Oh," Winslow managed to say; he was flustered by the response, not anticipating THAT as the reason. He had simply thought the vandalism might be due to Justin's young age and someone else's envy of his talent; this was NOT what he had expected at all. "Do you have any proof of that?" he said professionally, extremely interested in knowing if Justin had any evidence to back up his shocking claim.

Justin hesitated briefly, not sure just how much to say. He would have loved to have divulged his suspicions about Hayden Sterling; however, he wasn't positive he was right, and besides, if he DID voice his opinion, he was fairly certain that Brian would promptly rush up on stage and beat the living _shit_ out of the man. That would definitely NOT be a good way to continue the competition, and it would not be a positive response to take with such an impressionable little boy as Gus in the audience, not to mention any _other_ children who might be watching, either here or at home through the television show. No, he had to keep working on his design and win by his OWN hand, not through some type of default due to vandalism or disqualification of other teams.

"No," he finally said, his mind made up. "I really don't know," he responded. "Right now, though, I just want to get caught up on my design and get it completed before the allotted time. So if you'll excuse me," he said politely; he didn't even give the other man a chance to ask him anything further and possibly detain him any more as he quickly brushed by Winslow with the cake and hurried back over to his and Emmett's design area. He _was_ thankful, though, that Sterling was too busy at the moment with his _own_ design to try and either detain or speak to him as he finally placed the second cake down on their own design table.

Brian had watched, totally captivated, as Justin was unexpectedly intercepted by the show's pasty, artificial host near the refrigerator and asked about the events that had occurred earlier. He was overwhelmed by Justin's poise in front of the audience, as well as his conviction, as he described what had actually happened. His little Doughboy didn't pull any punches as he described what had transpired and WHY he thought the person had acted the way he or she did.

The brunet noted the surprised reaction of the audience and heard the various murmuring comments being thrown about as Justin continued to speak. He couldn't hear all that was being said, but he COULD hear enough to know there was no clear-cut opinion as to whether Justin should have been straightforward about the reason for the incident, or whether his homosexuality would wind up being a factor in the competition; he wasn't so naïve as to believe it wouldn't be a factor to SOME of the voting audience, but he hoped there was enough open-mindedness to offset it. He couldn't help, however, glancing over to glare pointedly at a nearby couple who had not minced words over their disapproval that an overt homosexual was competing in such a prestigious contest. He was satisfied when they seemed to cringe, intimated, at his steely gaze before they turned away from his withering stare.

"I don't _believe_ some people," Lindsey leaned over and whispered to him once Justin's interview was over. "How _anyone_ can believe this makes any difference in this contest is just unbelievable." She shook her head in disgust.

"Well, that's fairness for you," Brian said bitterly. "God forbid if they should look only at the person's _talent_. After all, Justin being gay makes such a _big difference_ in his ability," he added sarcastically.

"I think it's called being _jealous_ in addition to bigoted," Lindsey replied sadly.

Brian shook his head. "Well, whatever spin you put on it, you will never be able to get away from it, Wendy. No matter how much you might want to, we'll NEVER be living in _Never-Never Land_."

As Lindsey reached over to caress her son's soft cheek, she whispered, "No, I guess not. But we can still _hope_."

* * *

Emmett looked up as he saw Justin approaching. "I noticed you got lassoed by _Mr. Perfect_," Emmett muttered as he glanced over at their host. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to know what happened earlier, and I _told him_," Justin answered as he placed the cake down on their design counter. "He apparently didn't know exactly what happened, so I _filled him in_."

Emmett raised his eyebrows as his eyes widened. "You told him _everything_?"

Justin nodded soberly. "Yeah – I _did_; well, except for the wonderful _words of encouragement_ the person scrawled on our cake – I actually just _forgot_ to bring that up. I DID tell him that some hateful bigot tried to prevent us from competing, though. I didn't come straight out (he smirked at the unexpected pun) and tell him we were _gay_, but I think it was fairly obvious. And you know what? I'm GLAD he asked – I think it's time people here – and on _television_ - know that this type of hatred still exists. In a way, I'm GLAD it happened, then."

Emmett considered that statement for a few seconds before he nodded in agreement. "Yeah – I think I AM, too, Baby," he said as he placed a hand briefly on Justin's shoulder and squeezed. "Do you think it will have a bearing on the voting?"

Justin shrugged as Emmett returned to his work with the masts. "Hard to tell," he said. "But the most important thing is that we do our best, and we HAVE. And THEN SOME," he added. After all, they were the only team who had had to do some of their work _twice_.

Justin noticed to his amazement that Emmett almost had all three of the masts covered and had done an excellent job smoothing the fondant over the irregularly-shaped, triangle shapes. He smiled at his friend. "You know – I'd better watch out – you just might take over my job of cake designer, if I'm not careful. These are _great_," he told his partner, impressed.

Emmett beamed at the compliment. "_Thanks, _Sugar. I learned from the _best_."

Justin grinned. "Thanks. Since you DID do so well, I can get started on the most important part – the _cake topper_. It shouldn't take me long to cover and attach the ship parts, so I can do that last."

Emmett's eyes lit up. "Ooh….the cake topper; that's my _favorite part!_ Just wait until they see THAT!"

Justin nodded. "Yeah – that will definitely make ours stand out, all right. Do you think while I'm doing that, you can start working on the ship's _name_? The letter stencils are over in our supply crate."

Emmett nodded. "I sure can….what size?"

Justin bit his lip in thought. "I'd say go with the two-inch letters, even though the name's a fairly long one – it's going to be a pretty big ship when we get it all together. Oh, and I'd probably get the script font – they'll be more appropriate on the ship's hull."

"Oh, I'm _dying _of curiosity – I didn't even THINK about a name for the ship! What did you come up with?"

Justin smiled broadly as he disclosed his decision. "It's going to be called the _I YAM WHAT I YAM; _what else?"

Emmett clapped his hands in glee. "Oh, Baby, it's _genius! SHEER genius! _I LOVE IT!"

Justin grinned. "It _is_, isn't it? Speaking of which, I'd better get started if I'm going to do the characters up _right_. Hand me the remnants from the Rice Krispie mixture, will you?"

Emmett smiled as he reached over and retrieved the remainder of his mix and handed it to his partner. "Here you go, _artist extraordinaire._" Just before he started to walk over to the crate to locate the letter stencils, he added, "Oh, and by the way – don't worry about your job security. There's no way I could duplicate what _you're_ about to do."

* * *

_One Hour Later_

"Fifteen- minute break, contestants!" Winslow announced over the loudspeaker. "You will then have only three more hours to complete your cake when you return. Your break begins NOW!"

Justin let out a sigh of relief as Emmett rose from his chair in front of the stencils. "How's it going, Em?" he asked curiously; he had gotten the shell bodies of the two characters finished, and would be able to start on the heads as soon as they returned from their break; that would actually be the hardest part, but he HAD thought to bring in several samples of the two comic characters' entire images, so at least he would have some examples to use. He knew it was vital, though, that he get their likenesses as close to the originals as possible. Of course, ONE of them, however, would be getting a drastic _makeover_.

"Going good, Baby," Em reported, as he stepped back for Justin to see.

The blond smiled as he examined his partner's work. "Couldn't have done it better myself, Em," he told his friend. He winced, however, as a sharp flicker of pain lanced through his back.

"What _is it_?" his partner asked him, concerned. "Something wrong?"

"No," Justin assured him. "Not really. It's just that I would LOVE to take our break. I really could use something to drink and just get a chance to go the bathroom and stretch my legs. All this standing is fucking _killing me_." They actually had two chairs to sit on, but Justin often found that he couldn't do his work properly while seated; he preferred to examine his design from a higher perspective, and sitting in front of his work didn't afford him that opportunity. Now, however, he was paying for that preference with a stiff back, shoulders, and legs.

"Well, we've got fifteen minutes, Baby. Why don't you go ahead?"

"YOU need a break, too, Em," he pointed out. "After what happened this morning, though, I'm afraid to leave our work unattended. Call me paranoid, but we've worked too hard to get back in the competition, and I certainly don't want anyone – or anything – to fuck it up NOW."

"Not a problem, Mr. Taylor," Justin heard someone nearby say. He turned to notice a familiar-looking man standing nearby.

"Bennett Rodgers – I'm the exhibition coordinator," he reminded Justin, who nodded in realization. "Don't worry – I'll have one of the security guards stand here until you two get back. I don't want anything else happening on my watch, either. We've had _enough_ bad publicity today."

Rodgers didn't tell Justin, though, that it wasn't just bad publicity he was concerned about; a certain friend of his had cornered him a few minutes ago, as soon as Winslow had mentioned to the audience that the teams were about to take a short break, and practically threatened him with no more ingenious advertising support or sales pitches unless he made sure someone kept an eye on a certain team's cake creation while they took their break.

Justin nodded gratefully as Rodgers signaled for a nearby guard to come over and stand watch over his work. "Thanks – I appreciate that," he told the other man, who nodded before he left.

"Thank God," he said to Em, as the two slowly walked over to the side steps to leave the stage.

As they neared the edge of the stage, Emmett noticed someone familiar waiting near the bottom of the stairs. He smirked in realization that he knew _exactly_ who the person was waiting FOR, and it definitely wasn't HIM. "I'll meet you back on stage in a few minutes," he told his partner as he walked on ahead of Justin, nodding smugly a little at Brian as he passed near him before turning to search for a concession stand where a Cosmo could be had.

As some of the crowd slowly filtered out onto the floor below, Justin's heart leapt as he spied his own, private _fan club _of Lindsey, Gus, and more importantly, _Brian _waiting for him. He smiled at the trio as he somewhat stiffly walked down the steps to join them.

As Justin got closer, Lindsey let go of Gus' hand and the little boy scampered over, wrapping his one free hand around the blond's knees. "Jus'n!" he shouted excitedly. "Is it _over_? Can I come up and try your cake?"

Justin smiled at Gus as he affectionately ruffled the top of his head. "Not just yet, Buddy," he told him. "I'm just taking a short break, that's all. I still have some more work to do." As Gus peered up at him, a little disappointed, he added, smiling, "But don't worry. As soon as the contest is over, I'll make sure you get a piece of it, okay?"

Gus seemed sufficiently mollified by Justin's statement as he nodded and said, "Okay. But can I have something else to eat until then?"

Justin laughed at the adorable miniature _eating machine_ looking hopefully up at him. "That's up to your mommy or daddy, Buddy," he told the little boy. "You'll have to talk to them."

Lindsey walked up to Justin and smiled as she leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Justin…I'm so glad you didn't withdraw from the competition." She sobered somewhat as she added, "I'm just sorry you had to do all that work all over again. That person needs to be arrested for what he or she did."

Justin twisted his mouth dryly. "Thanks, Lindsey. Yeah, I agree, but finding out who did it is going to be hard. I don't think the person left any evidence from what I've been able to tell. He or she certainly lived up the true meaning of the word _coward_. But I'm not going to even think about that right now. I just want to concentrate on doing the best that I can, and I hope I get judged on my merits, not on my lifestyle."

"Good for you, Sweetie," she said, smiling. She looked down fondly at her son, whose hand was still clinging to Justin's legs. "Looks like you definitely have ONE big fan, anyway." _TWO, actually_, the thought came unbidden to her as she glanced over at Brian, who was silently standing partly away from the rest of them in a nearby shadowed corner.

She reached her hand out to her son. "Come on, Gus, let's go find you something to eat, Little Guy, before you decide to rush the stage for your sugar fix."

Lindsey did not fail to notice the heated looks that were being passed between her friend and Brian, who continued to stand a few feet away from them; she quickly decided that it was time for her and Gus to take a judicious exit to allow Justin to spend a few minutes with the person he REALLY wanted to talk to. As the two men continued to stare at each other, the heat being generated almost palpable to her, she couldn't help thinking triumphantly , _I KNEW it_…_…Even before YOU did…. __I KNEW IT_.

"Yay!" Gus cried excitedly as he promptly let go of Justin's leg and took his mother's proffered hand instead. "See you later, Jus'n!" he said happily. "Bye, Daddy!" He added, as Brian smiled at him.

"I'll see you in a little while, Sonny Boy," he finally told his son. Gus gave a small wave toward the blond and his father before he began to pull his mother toward the concession stand. "We'll see you later, Justin," she called out as her son tugged her away, "After you WIN!"

Justin smiled at her, grateful for her confidence in his abilities; as she and Gus walked away, however, he could feel the warmth on his face as he noticed the look that Brian was giving him. If he didn't know better, he would have almost described it as tender, even _tentative_. For some reason, that look made him feel even more self-conscious than the smoldering, predatory looks Brian _normally _gave him. He wasn't sure why, though, but he decided he _liked_ it even better as he smiled back at the other man encouragingly.

Seeing that as a positive sign, Brian approached his Doughboy slowly. "Hey," he said softly, peering into the blue eyes that always drew him in like some sensual magnet. He had never seen such a shade of blue in any other man's eyes before; of course, the fact that he found the _owner_ of those eyes so damned hot probably accentuated his opinion. In fact, there wasn't anything about this man that didn't continue to intrigue him, and it probably always _would_. He was certainly looking forward to continuing to get to know this man _thoroughly;_ at least he HOPED he would be able to, if Justin would let him.

"Hey yourself," Justin said softly, smiling as he stared into the hazel eyes he found so intriguing. Brian's eyes always seemed to be an ever-changing palette of colors, depending upon his mood. He had noticed when the man was turned on or he was flirting with him, for example, they became large and almost dark-brown…..sort of like they were right _now_, he noticed, his face flushing even more at the realization.

Brian smirked. _Gotcha,_ Doughboy, he couldn't help thinking a little smugly, as he noticed Justin blushing in reaction to his intense stare. He was glad, actually, that Justin still reacted to his overtures; that meant that hopefully they were finally back on track and could maybe even pick up where they had left off, at least _before_ that terribly unfortunate incident at the diner. Brian wished he could take that moment back forever, but he knew that was impossible. The best he could do, then, was make it up to Justin.

"I've been watching your progress," Brian told the blond. "You're fucking amazing," he said sincerely, his lips curling under almost shyly as he smiled back at Justin.

Justin warmed at the unbridled praise from the man whose opinion he admired so much. "Thanks," he said softly, "Thanks, too, for the message; it helped me make up my mind to keep going."

Brian tapped his cheek, just like yesterday. "I always taught Gus it was only polite to _express_ your appreciation," he drawled huskily, his eyes twinkling playfully.

Justin rolled his eyes but smiled agreeably as he edged closer to the other man. "Thanks," he murmured again softly as he leaned up to bestow a kiss on Brian's cheek. Before he could, however, Brian quickly turned his head at the same time he reached down to gently but firmly grasp Justin's neck so their lips could meet solidly together. Before Justin had a chance to react, he momentarily relished in the wonderful feel of the other man's soft, full lips on his as he sighed contently into the kiss before he worried he might be overstepping his bounds and reluctantly pulled back just enough to stare into the mesmerizing pools of blue.

"You're _welcome_, Doughboy," he sexily whispered; he noticed, pleased, that the blond trembled slightly in response to his voice and his hand, which was busy feathering the soft hair at the other man's nape. "My _pleasure_, believe me," he softly added. He was convinced if he stayed this way much longer, he would promptly fall into an immortal trance of perpetual captivity willingly. _Your sentence is to forever be by this man's side until eternity….._At the moment, he couldn't think of anything he would like more.

But he knew his Doughboy had one important task yet to accomplish – he had to show these losers that his talent and creativity were unsurpassed; Brian had absolutely no doubt that he would do just that as, with extreme reluctance, he began to temporarily let go of his treasure.

"Five minutes, contestants!" Winslow's voice bellowed out once again from the loudspeaker. "You have _five minutes_ to return to the stage!"

Justin glanced up at the large, red-numbered clock as Brian finally released him completely. "I…..guess I'd better get going," the blond said apologetically. "I need to find the restroom and grab something to drink before I go back up. I'll see you after it's over?" he couldn't help asking. He didn't know how the contest would turn out, but he now knew one thing no matter what – he HAD to see Brian again…and again…..and again. He was like a sickness that he knew he would never recover from; he might as well admit it.

Brian simply nodded, smiling, as Justin began to walk away. He had gone a few steps when he heard the brunet calling out his name.

"Justin?"

Justin turned around, his heart once more skipping a beat just at the intense look the other man was giving him – somehow he knew he would _never_ feel any differently, not as long as Brian always looked at only HIM that way.

"When this is over…..when you _win_," said Brian; he had NO doubt whatsoever that he _would._ "After you WIN, come back to the loft with me and we'll _celebrate_ _properly_."

Justin's face flushed an ever deeper shade of pink as Brian left no doubt as to exactly WHAT type of celebration he had in mind. He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, though, as he pointed out, "I thought Gus was spending the night with you tonight…..no school night, remember?" He tried not to let his voice reveal the unexpected frustration he felt at the thought that he wouldn't be able to spend time with Brian privately afterward; no matter _what_ happened this evening, he and Brian were finally back on track, and he was dying to be with him again _alone_; the kiss a few minutes ago only served to prove to him just how much his body was _craving_ this man's touch – a touch that only BRIAN could provide for him. With Gus there, however, it would be impossible to do what he REALLY wanted to do with this sexy, tender, and yes, _vulnerable_ man. Their one night of passion together had been _incredible_, and he couldn't wait for a repeat performance – only THIS time, the ending the next day would be _different_.

But Brian had a surprise for him. "Oh, didn't I _tell _you? Gus and his two mommies were able to score three tickets to the Museum Center's Dinosaur exhibit – tomorrow's the last day, so they HAVE to go then. Gus is spending the night with me _tomorrow night_, instead. Isn't that the most amazing coincidence?" Brian asked innocently.

Justin twisted his face as he chuckled softly, an almost musical type of laugh that Brian found incredibly hot. "Yes….._amazing_," the blond said knowingly, unable to keep the delight out of his voice at this unexpected – but highly fortuitous turn of events. "I guess I'll see you later, then," he said softly, just before he turned and walked away.

"Yes, you _will_," Brian vowed aloud, but Justin had already left. He stared at the form of his departing Doughboy for several seconds until he could no longer see him in the bustling crowd and finally turned around to walk back to his seat, anxiously waiting until later when he could do a little _creative designing_ of his own.


	30. Chapter 30: Under Scrutiny

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_**A/N: Don't kill me at the end, guys - LOL! Just spent about five hours getting this written and edited and my laptop is really acting up - have to stop to do lesson plans for my REAL job now - sorry! Will update as soon as I can, though! Now for the obligatory disclaimer - Popeye and Olive Oyl are just being borrowed as are B & J - just playing with them - no infringement intended!**_

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_8:30 p.m. Friday - Last Day of Competition_

"Em? Hand me that motor and help me, will you? It's time to take this baby for a test drive!" Justin said animatedly; he stood back anxiously from a few feet away, examining their ship schooner after affixing the wires to the bottom. It was finally time to attach the ship to the bottom of the cake with a large, wooden dowel and hopefully get it to rock back and forth as he was intending; whether it would actually work, however, was still in question.

He had created all sorts of cakes before, and had even used motion in the Captain Astro cake, but never on this big a scale and never using a top tier that weighed as much as this one did. Would it really work the way he hoped? If not, it was going to seriously impact the innovative design of his cake, although the cake _topper_ was still going to be the showpiece.

He almost had both figures finished, at least the bodies. He still had to finish the two heads, which, due to their complexity, were taking longer than he had ever imagined they would. Of course, having to virtually start all over again with part of the cake bottom earlier today hadn't helped. He could feel just a sliver of doubt starting to creep into his confidence as far as getting the entire cake finished before 10:45 – the deadline cutoff for having the cake done and ready to be carried to the judges' table for a final review.

Rubbing his aching, injured hand briefly, he prayed it would continue to hold out until all his work was done – the longer he used it tonight, the more painful it was becoming. _Damn it_, he thought, _I am not going to let THIS stop me, either….._

"What do you want me to do, Baby?" His thoughts were interrupted by his business partner walking up to stand beside him as Emmett studied the partially-completed design. He handed the portable motor to Justin, who began to fasten the wires to the other end.

"Let me get these attached to the motor, and then I'll need your help with the cake," Justin explained to him. "I'm going to put a large dowel in the middle of the base to hopefully anchor the schooner," he told his friend. "Then I'll need your help getting the ship on top of it. And THEN you can cross your fingers, toes, and whatever ELSE you can cross," he smirked, "in hopes this actually WORKS."

Emmett nodded. "I can cross my eyes, too," he informed Justin before smiling. "But I can't promise I can cross my legs – I haven't had much practice, there," he quipped.

Justin laughed. "I'll think that'll be enough things, Em," he said. "Wouldn't want you to get a cramp in a vital part or something," he quipped teasingly. He finished attaching the last wire to the motor before placing the contraption near the cake base, which was already resting on top of a large supportive structure. Before they had come to the competition, he had constructed a wide, flat wooden platform to reside under the bottom tier that would have a hinge screwed into the center dowel resting on the wave layer; when the schooner was placed on top, ideally the remote-controlled lever would cause the ship to rock back and forth. _Please let this work_, he pleaded silently. He had never tried something so complicated before, so he knew he was taking a big chance it would succeed.

He took a deep breath in anticipation as he said to Em, nodding, "I'm ready…..it's now or never." He reached over for the thick, wooden dowel and, making sure it was centered properly, screwed it down successfully on top of the bottom layer. Now came the somewhat difficult task of making sure the ship itself was placed in exactly the right spot; one wrong move, even an inch away, and the ship would not be balanced sufficiently enough for the proper pendulum motion he would need.

"Okay….help me lift the schooner up," Justin asked. Both men reached gingerly underneath the ship, which by now must have weighed at least 75 pounds, and slowly curled their hands around the hardened bottom. Slowly they raised the ship until it was approximately one foot above the dowel. "Slowly, slowly," Justin cautioned his friend, his voice straining now under the surprisingly heavy ship. He slumped down slightly so he could take keep a trained eye on the ship's bottom, trying to ensure it was lining up properly.

He jerked his head slightly to the right. "A couple more inches over that way," he grunted to Emmett, who slowly sidled over slightly. "Stop!" Justin cried out as his artistic eye determined they were at the right place. "Help me lower it down…_slowly_," he reminded Em. As the cake was inched lower and lower, Justin kept a constant eye on it to make sure they were centering it adequately. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he nodded as they successfully anchored the ship onto the large dowel.

He let out a large breath of relief before hurriedly asking his partner, "Don't let go of it yet. I want to make sure the fucking thing's going to_ stay on_." As the two took a momentary break to regain their breath, Justin's heartbeat began to rise in anticipation of his test as to whether or not the ship was going to perform the way he hoped. First, though, he hoped the ship would simply stay _attached_…

As his breathing slowly returned to normal after several seconds, he nodded to Emmett and advised him, "Okay…..go ahead and SLOWLY let go of it; and start crossing whatever you can cross….."

"Don't worry, Baby," Emmett reassured his friend. "I've done this same type of thing before myself - you've got it on there right, trust me."

Justin rolled his eyes but had to laugh at his friend. "Ah, Emmett...what would I do with you?" he said, smiling, as his business partner returned his smile with one of his own.

Emmett slowly released his part of the schooner; he watched intently as he stood back a few feet then and observed Justin. The blond bit his lip anxiously and glanced to Em before he, too, finally released his hold on the ship. He held his breath for a few seconds as he watched the cumbersome schooner closely, praying it stayed upright and rigid for now. He heart was hammering in his chest in nervous hopefulness as seconds ticked by and the ship remained where it should before he began to smile slightly. "That's one hurdle over with," he told Em, nodding with satisfaction.

Em smiled back at him. "Way to go, Baby," he told his friend supportively. "See - I TOLD you."

Justin gave him a quick sideways glance. "Yeah….but now comes the _real_ test…..wish me luck."

"You know it, partner," Emmett told him. "It's going to work – I just _know_ it. Show 'em how it's done."

Justin chuckled softly. "Better stay back," he warned. "If it starts rocking TOO fast, it might just rock itself right off the TABLE." He took a deep breath and let it out as he reached over for the remote control. This was it – the do or die part of the cake. It if didn't work, it would pretty much doom the rest of his design…..

He licked his lips with trepidation as, cradling the remote control in his left palm, he finally toggled on the switch located on the motor. As a whirling sound was heard, he stole a quick look over at the ship. Nothing happened for a second or two, but then all of a sudden, the ship slowly began to tilt downward and then upward in a perfect rocking motion, just like it was resting on top of some gentle waves. Back and forth, back and forth it moved in a perfect semblance of the high seas.

The excited whoops of both men could be heard echoing on the stage as they smiled jubilantly and gave each other a high five. "You DID it, Baby!" Emmett cried as he reached over to give Justin a brief hug of congratulations.

Justin beamed at his success. "I don't _believe _it!" he cried happily. "It's working _perfectly_! Yes‼" He clapped his hands a couple of times in joy. Finally, they had something to celebrate…..

From his vantage place in the audience, Brian was watching every move Justin made with rapt fascination and admiration. Justin and his partner had been working feverously ever since their last break on finishing their cake, and he was amazed as he watched his Doughboy attaching a large schooner on top of another part of the cake. Several seconds later, he could hardly believe his eyes as the schooner virtually came to life, rocking back and forth on top of the bottom tier. _Amazing_, he marveled as his eyes lit up. Every day he was learning something new about this man, and he found he couldn't wait to learn much more about him. He couldn't help smiling at Justin's success. _Go get 'em, Doughboy_, he thought, as he watched Justin's face light up with a deserved smile and the two men onstage congratulate themselves.

"Look, Daddy!" he heard his son cry out excitedly in his seat on top of Lindsey's lap next to him as pointed toward the stage. "Jus'n made a _boat cake_!" He raised his left hand that held his precious Dino and started to weave him up and down, just like he was riding the waves, too. "Dino wants to take a ride on it!" he told his father, swirling his prized toy around just like he was doing aerial acrobatics.

"Ship, Sonny Boy…..a big "boat" is a _ship_," he fondly corrected his son, but it didn't matter. Whatever you called it, it was a masterpiece in its complexity and design. He briefly rued the thought that Justin didn't work for _him_ – with HIS talent and Brian's ingenuity, his company, already quite successful, would be fucking _unstoppable_. Perhaps that was an idea for the future, but for now, this night belonged entirely to Justin and his brilliance.

"It's _neat_!" Gus exclaimed, his eyes lit up with fascination over the "big boat." He had played with numerous plastic variations of boats in the bath tub, but NEVER one as big – and as impressive – as THIS one. "Would Jus'n let me bring it home and play with it in the tub, Daddy?" he asked his father hopefully.

Brian and Lindsey exchanged amused looks as his father told him, "I'm _sorry_, Buddy, but that one wouldn't hold up in the water – it's supposed to be _eaten_ instead. Justin promised you a piece later – remember?" he reminded his son gently.

Gus pouted slightly, disappointed he and Dino wouldn't get to try out the incredible "toy" currently rollicking back and forth on the wave platform up on the stage. He was somewhat encouraged, however, by the idea that he would get to taste it, however. In amusement, Brian reached over and tenderly patted his son's head in commiseration as the little boy abruptly exploded with a large yawn.

Lindsey leaned over and whispered in Brian's ear, "I think it's a good thing someone didn't spend the night with you tonight," she told him.

Brian frowned and was about to issued a scathing retort at his friend before he realized, somewhat sheepishly, that Lindsey was actually talking about their _son_, who was getting sleepier and sleepier as the night wore on. It was now more than two hours past Gus' bedtime, and he was feeling the effects of it. As much as Brian had wished for his son to be there when Justin was triumphant – and he still had no doubts that he WOULD be – it was quickly becoming apparent to both him and Lindsey that he wasn't going to persevere. "Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed as Gus leaned his brown-haired head back to lay it on his mother's chest, his eyes fluttering as they struggled to stay awake.

Lindsey sighed. "I was hoping to see how Justin came out tonight," she whispered to Brian. "But I think I'll have to take someone home and watch on TV, instead."

As Lindsey gently picked up their son to leave, Brian continued to watch Justin; he was so fascinated by his Doughboy's creative genius – and, _who was he kidding_? – the man's persona, which almost glowed up on stage as he became engrossed in his work, that he couldn't drag his eyes away from Justin even he wanted to, which, of course, he didn't. The man was just totally irresistible, especially when he was so passionate about something. Brian couldn't wait to see that same look later when they had a chance to celebrate _privately; _he could feel his body reacting just at the _thought_ of that delicious prospect. Hoping desperately that the next hour and a half went by rapidly, he only half-acknowledged Lindsey with a goodbye nod and planted a quick kiss on the forehead of his now fast-asleep son before he turned his sights once again toward the stage.

__

Ten Minutes Later – On Stage

"Psst! Don't look now, Baby, but we're about to have company!" Emmett warned his friend ominously as he whispered in his ear. Justin frowned in puzzlement, until he glanced up from his work and noticed to his dread that the entire body of judges, as well as their host, Paul Winslow, was heading to their kitchen. He knew it would be inevitable; he had just hoped that they would have waited a little longer, because he was still in the midst of finishing up the two characters for his cake topper, and he needed to do the final touches for the ship's surface, such as the masts and the cannon. Now he would have to stop what he was doing and speak with them anyway.

As if reading his mind, Emmett told his friend, "I'll stall them as long as I can, Justin, but you know they're going to want to talk to you directly."

Justin nodded as he wiped some sweat away from his brow with the back of his hand. "Yeah….I know," he said quickly before they could hear them. "Give me as long as you can, though, okay?" he pleaded.

Emmett smiled sympathetically and nodded. "You got it, Baby." Justin glanced over at the four judges rapidly approaching. They were all dressed in white overcoats with flowing, scripted insignias reading "_Wedding Cake Wars"_ on their chest. Justin wasn't surprised to note that the ever-dour head judge, Sylvia Cooper, was leading the processional. Not exactly looking forward to being grilled by the stern-looking matron, he nevertheless tried to steel himself for her interrogation.

Just before the judge arrived, he could hear their host providing a background and running commentary for the festivities. "We're on track for the finale of this exciting, three-day competition now," he was saying. "Each team is frantically hurrying to complete their cake before the 10:45 p.m. deadline, when they will need to present their final designs to the judges. One slight misstep can be the difference between possible triumph and total failure."

Justin huffed softly. _Nothing like a little pressure to get your blood shivering_, he thought as he quickly turned back to concentrate on the delicately fine work of making the heads of his cake topper characters come to life.

Shortly afterward, he could hear Emmett speaking with a couple of the judges, briefly providing them with a short synopsis of their cake design and their progress so far. He knew, though, that it was just a matter of time before it was _his_ turn…..

As if on cue, a few seconds later, he heard a rather clipped voice saying coolly, "Mr. Taylor? A word with you, please?"

He sighed softly before turning around to acknowledge her. "Hello, Mrs. Cooper," he greeted her politely, blowing an errant bang from his eyes. His adrenaline began to race as he noticed several microphone booms overhead to capture their conversation on camera; no doubt, every word being uttered was being broadcast instantly not only to the live, studio audience, but also to several million television viewers as well, which only added to his nervousness.

He watched tensely as the head judge slowly raked her studious, analytical eyes over his progress so far. "You have the _adventure_ category." It was a statement rather than a question, but Justin nodded his head mutely anyway. _Well, duh_, he thought sarcastically as he tried hard to keep the disdain from his expression or his voice. After all, this was a JUDGE – he certainly HOPED she knew what each team was doing, or she wasn't much of a judge…..

"You seem to be doing a sort of _high seas_ theme," she observed flatly, stating it again as a declaration rather than an inquiry.

"Yes, that's correct," Justin told her firmly. He was determined NOT to let this windbag intimidate him, despite WHAT her intention might be. As Emmett stood nearby looking over her shoulder, Justin watched as she hurriedly scribbled some sort of note down on her clipboard as the other judges listened intently to their interaction.

"I don't quite see how this will tie into a wedding theme, Mr. Taylor," she said in her school-marm tone.

* * *

Out in the seated audience, Brian scowled as he heard the condescending tone in the judge's voice.

_Deep breath, Doughboy, deep breath_, Brian couldn't help thinking as he listened to their conversation, trying hard somehow to convey that thought to Justin. _Don't let her get to you….. _

He felt a sort of pride in the way Justin was handling himself so far, though; his little artiste was staying calm and self-assured as he answered her questions firmly but politely. _That's it…show her your stuff, Justin….._

* * *

"It will," Justin was assuring her. "The bridegroom will be assuming the role of a swashbuckler – he'll be standing up top in the crow's nest," he explained as she looked at him skeptically. "And the person he's marrying will be up there with him," he added. He glanced over then briefly at Emmett, who was smiling slightly at him conspiratorially. He knew he should have been more specific about the sex, but he didn't see a need at the moment to stir up any _more_ controversy; he was still following the rules, he just wasn't being overly _elaborative_ about his plans just yet. He wasn't sure if this woman could even _comprehend_ that concept, anyway…..

She looked at him skeptically for a few seconds, dividing her penetrating stare between him and the cake before finally saying, "Well, we will be looking forward to your final design, Mr. Taylor," and briskly turning around to head off to the next competitors' kitchen.

As her entourage scurried off to keep up with her, Justin sighed a breath of relief as his partner walked over to him. "Well, you dodged one bullet there, Baby," Emmett told his friend as they watched the group leaving. They were finally out of earshot of the microphones and could once again speak candidly. "But don't you think you should have just _told_ them? They're going to find out soon enough anyway," he pointed out.

Justin nodded. "Yeah…..I know. I really don't KNOW why I didn't explain," he added. "But they'll know soon enough. There's nothing in the rules about it," he said a little defensively. He knew Emmett fully supported him and their plan, so he didn't really know WHY he felt like he had to persuade him that it was a good idea.

Emmett held his hands up in a sort of mock surrender. "Hey, you're preaching to the choir here, Honey," he uttered, his brows rising a little in reaction to Justin's response.

Justin sighed. "I'm sorry, Em," he immediately apologized. "I _know_ you do…..I guess I'm just really nervous about what their reaction will be," he explained. "But I'm NOT changing it – especially after what happened before. I want to make a point and I'm going to stick to it," he declared. His stomach felt queasy and tied up in knots at the thought of standing in front of the judges' table later, but that still didn't sway him from his plan.

Emmett smiled at his friend and winked. "Good for you, Baby. I wouldn't expect anything less," he assured him. "I'll go get the masts from the counter and let you get back to work on our happy couple."

Justin acknowledged his business partner's support gratefully with a returning smile before turning back to work on the heads of his groom, Popeye, and his "wife to be," Oliver Oyl. He smirked as he thought, _Just wait until they see who HIS "wife" is….._He had had his flash of creative inspiration occur about a week before the competition began and had decided to go for it, conventionality be damned. At the time, though, he had no idea just how important the concept would be, especially in light of what had happened earier today. He knew, though, that no matter whether he was eventually successful here or not, though, the most important reason for him competing in the contest would be reached either way.

"One more hour to go, contestants!" Winslow was excitedly informing the competitors and studio audience over the loudspeaker. The buzz of anticipation seemed to increase in volume at the announcement, as Justin glanced over at the clock. 9:45 – one hour before he and Emmett had to get their cake carried over to the judges' table for their inspection and examination. One more hour before he knew how open-minded and fair the judges – and the studio audience – would be, although he never had wanted to win based solely on some controversial issue he presented; he merely wanted to win if he DESERVED it for his design and creativity.

As Justin returned to work with his dental-like plastic pick to continue carving out the characters' faces, Emmett carefully walked over to him with the three ship masts. "Do you want to put these on now, Justin?" he asked his friend as he gently placed them, side down, on the nearby counter.

Justin shook his head. "No, Em, I think I'll wait. Those should go on pretty easily, so I can do them at the last minute. You COULD bring the cannon and liquid smoke over, though, so we can put it in place and make sure the special effects are working right." He was relieved that at least the ship had been securely attached and was rocking like he had hoped; he had turned it off for the time being, however, opting not to press his luck too much.

Emmett nodded as he studied Justin's progress so far. He had almost finished Popeye's head, complete with his pipe and trademark white sailor's hat, and was putting the finishing touches on the rest of his face. He smiled in appreciation. "Wow, that's fantastic," he praised his partner, who beamed at the compliment. "But I'm STILL looking forward to seeing his _bride_. Just what DOES the fashionable pirate bride wear?" he wondered facetiously.

Justin grinned. "Oh, I'd say a candy apple red, ruffled dress blouse and some matching back satin bloomers with a gold stripe on the side, don't you think?" They both giggled at their private joke, both wondering just how the judges – and the audience – would react to their surprising twist.

Emmett walked the few steps over to the nearby counter for the cannon and liquid smoke. "How much longer do you think you'll need?" Emmett asked curiously. "You still think you'll be able to finish on time?"

Justin stood up to stretch again, trying hard to ignore his ever-stiffening back and hand. "Ahh," he said as he grunted a little while he leaned back, and then twisted side to side a couple of times. "My fucking back is _killing _me," he told his friend. "I feel like I haven't sat down in a week. But don't worry – I'll work lying on a stretcher if it means I'll get this done." At his friend's worried look, he reassured him, "It'll be done, Em, don't worry…..I think it'll be close, but it WILL get done or I'll die trying," he kidded, smiling.

Em nodded, still a little concerned that Justin was overdoing it. He knew his friend's hand had been bothering him all day, and he knew how hard it must be for Justin to be standing up for hours now, but he _also_ knew how determined his partner could be when he had his mind – and heart – set on something.

That thought made him glance over into the audience to observe someone _else_ intently watching Justin's every move. Brian Kinney didn't even seem to notice Emmett was even looking at him – it was as if Justin was the only man in the room, even though there were literally _thousands_ of spectators here, in addition to the competitors onstage. He was encouraged to see how watchful Brian was being. Clearly, the man's actions were NOT those of somebody only casually interested in someone; this was a man who was head over heels, totally captivated by his business partner and friend.

At least, then, Justin was apparently in line to receive some undivided "appreciation" once this was all over and done with from _someone_, and if the man was sincere, Emmett was delighted, because he knew just how much Justin had been falling for him. The two heated looks the two had been sharing over the past few days was an overt sign of that fact. His friend deserved nothing less, though, than someone who would cherish and respect him in return, and he was finally beginning to realize that Brian Kinney just might be that person. _Looks like you're going to come out a winner either way, Baby_, he thought smiling to himself.

As Justin hunched over the counter and returned to his work, he felt Emmett briefly lay a hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. "You'll get it done, Baby…..I have no doubt about that whatsoever," he said, before releasing his grip and leaning against the counter sideways to watch his partner's progress.

* * *

"Fifteen minutes, Contestants! It is now 10:30 – you have _fifteen minutes_ to finish your cake and have it ready for transport to the judges' table! Fifteen minutes!"

As Paul Winslow walked among the competitors' kitchens providing a running commentary as to each team's current progress, Justin was finally putting the finishing touches on Popeye and his "bride-to-be," Oliver Oyl. Popeye was now fully spray painted and in addition to his customary pipe and white hat, he was dressed in a formal, navy dress uniform from the 17th century with a red trimmed lapel and blue-edged sleeves; his pants were a navy-blue color as well, with a gold stripe piped along the sides similar to his "bride's." He was constructed so that once the two were placed together, he would be holding Oliver's left hand as he held out a bouquet of red roses to him with his other hand.

Emmett sniffled back a couple of tears as he looked at the finished product on the table. "It's _beautiful,_ Baby," he choked out as Justin chuckled.

"You sentimental fag," the blond teased his business partner, smiling. He had to admit, though – the finished couple were spot on – at least if Olive Oyl had been changed into the man as she was now, anyhow. He was pleased with – as well as proud of – his finished work, especially in light of how difficult it had been for them to get it completed. "We did it, Em," he said softly, almost in disbelief. "We _did_ it."

Em wrapped his arm around Justin's shoulder and squeezed it once as he leaned in and whispered in his ear. "No, Baby, YOU did it," he corrected his friend. "I was just lucky enough to be along for the ride. Now let's finish this puppy up and knock 'em on their ass."

Justin chuckled as he nodded. "Let's _do _it."

_

* * *

_

10:45 p.m.

"Contestants, stop what you are doing! Your time is UP!" Winslow's voice could be heard booming over the loudspeaker as he advised each team that their preparation and design time was now over.

The atmosphere in the auditorium was almost electric in its excitement as the grand finale rapidly approached. All the teams slowly placed what utensils they had down on their respective tables in expectant anticipation and nervousness; it would be each contestant's first real look at all the other finished creations, and everyone, including the audience, teams, and judges, were anxious to view the final products.

One by one, each team was instructed to move their cake to the judges' table for viewing and scrutiny. The first four teams, each representing themes of the beach, castles, night-time weddings and tradition, respectively, each slowly navigated their wedding cakes successfully over to the judges' table as instructed. The next team up was the _Scrumptious Buns_ team of Sterling Hayden and his partner, Emma Henderson, a middle-aged woman that Justin had never met. He certainly knew who the _man_ was, though – he STILL suspected the man had something to do with his cake almost being destroyed but he had no proof of it. Something just told him, however, that this man was quite capable of doing just that if he had motivation enough, and his recent confrontation with Brian would have definitely fit in that category.

Thinking of Brian again made him glance over quickly at the man's customary spot; he blushed slightly as his eyes immediately honed in on the sexy man smiling back at him reassuringly from his normal seat. Brian had not moved from that spot except for their brief interlude earlier during break time. He smiled back at Brian slightly in grateful acknowledgement before turning back to watch the British team slowly lumber over with their cake, a mockup of some Japan pagoda surrounded by cherry trees.

Everyone held their breath as the cake began to wobble slightly as the two walked it over to the judges' table; it was slightly titled in the woman's favor as she struggled to hold up her end of the extremely heavy structure, until to everyone's shock and horror, she stumbled on a cable taped to the stage and the cake's platform began to pitch severely downward, causing the cake to begin sliding toward the wooden floor.

In a matter of seconds, the meticulously-constructed cake of the past three days was immediately reduced to a sticky, oozing chocolate and cherry mess as everyone gasped.

Cameras immediately zeroed in on what remained of the cake, in addition to the distraught faces of the two contestants as Paul Winslow narrated for the camera. "Oh, no! Team Number 5's cake just fell to the floor and was totally destroyed! What a terrible bit of luck for the British Team in their third straight try for the grand prize – they were third last year and were hoping to move up in their standings here at Pittsburgh. Now their dream has been shattered, along with the cake."

Emmett snorted. "How utterly sincere," he muttered to Justin who was standing nearby waiting for their turn. "And totally fake. The man couldn't fucking care less – he no doubts gets off on those types of things happening."

Justin stared at what remained of Team No. 5's cake; despite his strong conviction that Hayden Sterling had been the man responsible for vandalizing his cake, he was still strangely sympathetic toward the man over his misfortune; perhaps it was because he knew how hard the man had worked for the finished creation – he had just lived through the same ordeal himself. No matter how sure he was this man had been the perpetuator, he still couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him, in more ways than one…..The man now was empty, both in terms of his cake and in terms of his soul.

He suddenly came out of his musing as he heard their names being called. "Next up is Team Number Eight from right here in Pittsburgh – Emmett Honeycutt and Justin Taylor from _Cakes of Art_. Team Number 8 – move your cake to the judges' table!" they were instructed.

Each of the friends took a calming breath. "Let's do it, Em," Justin told his partner, who nodded. They each reached down to firmly grasp their cake and slowly lift it off the counter. Emmett was somewhat concerned for Justin, who was at a disadvantage due to his shorter height and slight weight. "Got it?" he asked the blond, who took another breath to steady himself and nodded.

* * *

Out in the audience, Brian held his breath as he watched Emmett and Justin slowly maneuver their impressive schooner cake over toward the judges' table. _Come on, Doughboy – you can do it_, he kept repeating as his mantra over and over in his head. _Slow and easy…..slow and easy. _A brief thought that later they would be engaging in an activity that would be anything BUT "slow and easy" filtered through his mind before he firmly pushed it aside. There would be enough time to devote to that delicious idea later, but for now it was Justin's turn to shine. _Come on, Doughboy,_ he continued to silently urge.

* * *

As they finally placed the extremely heavy cake gingerly down onto the judges' table, Justin and Emmett both let out a sigh of relief and gave each other a high five in satisfaction as the cameras recorded their finished product. They had now done all they could do – their cake was finished and placed where the judges – and the audience – could see it and hopefully appreciate it. Now it was out of their hands.

As their cake sat displayed under the lights in front of them, Justin had to admit – it had turned out to be spectacular. The elegant dark gray and maroon ship, which was almost three feet tall, was rocking majestically back and forth on its base as the cannon, pointing over the bow, was blowing a lazy swirl of smoke, looking like it had recently been fired in celebration of the marriage that had just taken place between the two standing in the tall crow's nest at the front of the ship. Three billowing sails seemed to be blowing in the soft breeze nearby as the ship smoothly navigated its way through the ocean waves below. A black-and-white skull-and-crossbones flag hung from a wooden flagpole at its stern.

As if reading his thoughts, Emmett leaned down to whisper to Justin, "You outdid yourself, partner," and Justin couldn't help beaming at the praise as he felt a definite sense of accomplishment.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, all of the remaining teams had carried their designs over to the appointed spots on the judges table and were standing in front of their respective works, waiting anxiously for comments from the four experts assigned the difficult task of appointing a grand prize winner, as well as the two runner-ups, each of which would receive a monetary prize and a trophy for their accomplishments.

Justin bit his lip nervously as he heard the judges analyzing each cake. They were brutally honest in each of their assessments, sparing no amount of rebuke in pointing out where each team's shortcomings were, whether it was sloppy fondant work or a failure to follow their appointed themes.

As the quartet of judges finally reached his and Emmett's cake, he held his breath, unable to tell from their expressions what they were thinking. He noticed each judge stopping to stare at the cake topper in particular, not surprising considering there were two GROOMS on the cake and no bride. As if reading his mind, Sylvia Cooper turned to look at him with a look of astonishment. "There's no bride on this cake," she stated, again not asking him but _telling_ him.

Justin nodded. "Yes, I know," he said simply.

"It's supposed to be a _wedding cake_," she continued curtly.

Biting back an urge to sarcastically say _well, duh_ to her again, he replied evenly instead as he nodded in agreement, "I know….there wasn't _supposed to be_."

Justin noticed the lone male judge smiling slightly in amusement at that statement, and could hear a few snickers from the audience, which had begun to buzz as understanding started to filter through the crowd that this was going to be a_ different_ sort of wedding cake topper on the youngest competitor's cake.

"Would you care to explain why?" Sylvia asked him coolly, even though she, as well as the other judges, already had to know the reason.

Justin smiled anyway and decided to humor her, even though he doubted the woman had ever cracked a smile in her life. "Of course…..it's designed for a gay couple's wedding," he verified; his voice was strong as he continued to explain. "The couple in the crow's nest is based on the comic character of Popeye and his male partner, Oliver Oyl_."_ The volume level in the crowd continued to rise as the conversation was broadcast over the loudspeaker now and Justin's talk with the no-nonsense judge could be clearly overheard, not only with the live studio audience but undoubtedly the television viewers as well.

Clearly flustered for once, the judge huffed, "But...That's not _allowed_."

Justin stared back evenly at her. "There is _nothing _in the rules that says it isn't," he countered. "I checked them thoroughly before I decided to do it." He was not going to back down against this woman, no matter HOW imposing she was.

"Well…..well…..there HAS to be," she argued. "No one's ever done _anything_ like this." She continued to stare aghast at Justin's unorthodox idea of a wedding couple as she furiously rehashed the official rules in her mind. She had been judging this contest now for almost ten years and knew the rules forward and backward. Unfortunately, as hard as she might, she couldn't think of one paragraph that specifically forbid having a gay couple as the wedding topper, however. "But…it's just not _done_!" she pressed, trying almost desperately now to come up with an effective argument for disallowing Justin's idea.

Justin was about to issue a strong retort of "Now until now" just before he saw one of the other female judges, Maria Sanchez, firmly grab her sleeve and lean in to whisper in her ear. He noticed the older woman's face redden, apparently in anger, before she straightened back up and stated coldly, "Very well, Mr. Taylor….We will _allow_ it. But whether you will _succeed_ with this highly debatable notion is a completely _different_ matter." She practically stuck her nose up in the air as she proceeded to haughtily walk away to the next table of Team Number Nine to continue her analysis; the other judges, cameramen and various other studio assistants followed closely behind like whipped puppy dogs.

"Well, _that_ went over well, Baby, wouldn't you say?" Emmett muttered to his partner, who shook his head in disgust.

"You know, Em, I really don't care when it's all said and done," Justin told his friend, and he really DID mean it. The money would be nice and would be invaluable in helping to grow their business, not to mention pay for his tuition, which got steeper and harder to pay each year. But if he left here with nothing but his pride and dignity intact, as well as Emmett's and Brian's support, that would be payment enough for him. "I will be leaving with what I wanted regardless."

Emmett pondered that for a few seconds before he nodded his head firmly. "Yeah, Sweetie…..I'd say you will be. We BOTH will."

* * *

Out in the audience, Brian seethed with indignation and disgust over Sylvia Cooper's homophobic attitude – he wouldn't put it past the woman to have even been Justin's cake vandal – he could almost literally FEEL the woman's scorn pouring off her as he watched her indignant, holier-than-thou attitude toward Justin. He tamped down murderous thoughts of grasping the old woman by her wrinkled, chicken throat and throttling the living daylights out of her, but finally thought better of it. He only hoped that her bigoted attitude wasn't share by everyone else. Only time – and the final voting – would tell. No matter WHAT happened, though, when it was all over, he was going to be there for Justin, good or bad. To him, his own little Doughboy had ALWAYS been a winner regardless, and he was going to make sure Justin knew it.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have seen all the designs and now have the important task of voting for your favorite. Your vote will count as 25% of the final tally, and will be scored along with the judges' choices to decide on the top three finalists. You have five minutes starting NOW!" Winslow bellowed out over the loudspeaker as everyone in the audience scampered to pick up their remote control devices and cast their vote by number for their favorite cake design team.

Justin and Emmett stood nervously along with the other 10 teams as they waited for the final vote tally. Once the audience had voted, the judges would have five additional minutes to come to a consensus as to their top three design teams. From those three, a final grand prize would be determined, based on the popular vote as well as the judges' recommendations.

Justin couldn't help fidgeting a little next to his friend. "This is totally _nerve-wracking," _he muttered to Emmett. "Three days of painstaking work and it all pretty comes down to _this_. I wouldn't want to go through this again," he added. "I can't wait for this all to be over," he admitted. "Good or bad."

Emmett smiled softly at his friend and nodded. "Yeah….all this fame….so fleeting….so many hot guys to fuck here, but after it's all over, just like any celebrity, they'll forget they ever knew me." He sighed melodramatically, evoking the desired effect on Justin to ease his friend's tension as the blond laughed at his antics.

"Thanks, Em," Justin said. "I needed that. Oh, but don't worry," he added, patting his friend on the arm a couple of times. "Trust me – you're _unforgettable_."

Emmett beamed and his eyes sparkled at his friend. "Thanks, Baby….you are, too, you know – at least I know one OTHER person who thinks so – besides me, I mean."

Justin smiled at his friend before glancing out into the audience to lock his gaze onto Brian, who smiled back at him warmly. A silent communiqué passed between them just before Winslow reappeared at the center of the stage with a sheet of paper in his hand.

"I have the results, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the three finalists!" First, I want to thank all of the teams for competing in what turned out to be the most exciting round yet of the _Wedding Cake Wars!_" he intoned excitedly. "This year has been full of twists and turns, to say the least, but I now have the audience vote, as well as the judges' votes, for the top three finalists, who will receive trophies for their achievement, but also a monetary award of $5,000, 7,500, and 10,000 respectively for their skill. And now for the results you've all been waiting for!"

Justin took a deep breath and let it out as he rubbed his hands nervously. He had told himself it didn't matter – he had won no matter what – but that hadn't been the total truth. In reality, he really DID want to at least place in the competition – it would be an effective "fuck you" to all the homophobic people who didn't believe gay couples had a right to love and have their commitment recognized just the same as straight couples. It would be a confirmation that open-mindedness and fairness really DID exist, even in conservative places like Pittsburgh.

"The first of the finalists is…Team No. Two from Switzerland – _Swiss Delights!"_ Justin clapped politely as the two men who had constructed an elaborate recreation of a centuries-old palace from their home country walked up next to Winslow to acknowledge the applause of the crowd.

"The second team who has a shot at the grand prize is…Team #1 from the great state of Texas – _Lone Star Treats!"_ Justin and Emmett again politely acknowledged the team of two women who they had seen earlier. The two partners had made an impressive design for the "Exotic Locale" theme using an actual waterfall cascading over a mountain in Hawaii for their wedding cake, and Justin had to admit, it had been quite distinctive.

There was only one team left now to be announced, and Justin began to feel a sense of doom and disappointment. The odds that Winslow would be calling out their name, especially after the head judges' reaction, was extremely slim now. He began to prepare himself for the inevitable as he held his breath for the last name along with the remaining teams.

"We now have only one team left….." Just like the typical reality show host, Winslow was delaying the final and most exciting name as long as possible as everyone on stage, as well as out in the audience, squirmed tensely in anticipation. Shouts of "just say it, already!" rang out from below, echoing most everyone's opinion as they waited impatiently for the last name to be read.

"Okay, okay," Winslow chuckled annoyingly as he glanced down at the white card in his hand. Justin thought he was going to melt under the extremely hot spotlights as he wiped some sweat quickly from his mouth; he was starting to feel almost dizzy from the combination of the heat and the day's exhausting activities.

"Fucking SAY it," Emmett muttered to his friend as they waited nervously like the others.

At last, Winslow opened his mouth to utter the last name on the list. "The final name in the top three – and a chance at the grand prize tonight is…..Team No. 8 from Pittsburgh – _Cakes of Art!"_

The crowd went wild and Emmett jumped up and down ecstatically as their shop's name was called out and he turned to celebrate victory with his partner. "Oh, my God, Baby – did you _hear that?"_ We are in the top THREE‼"

But Justin, unfortunately, did not get the chance to finally bask in their glory or acknowledge the crowd's appreciation of his hard work. The crowd gasped as they watched the youngest cake designer in the history of _Wedding Cake Wars _sway on his feet and promptly drop, unconscious, into a crumpled heap onto the hard, wooden floor.


	31. Chapter 31: And The Winner Is

"Justin! Oh, My God!" As the din of the crowd seated out in the audience and the contestants onstage began to rise in confusion and stunned surprise, Emmett crouched down to his friend and placed his hand to the blond's forehead. "Justin? Can you hear me, Sweetie?" he asked anxiously. "Wake up!" When Justin didn't respond to a gentle nudge of his shoulder, he looked up helplessly to the host standing nearby in almost paralyzed shock. "Well don't just _stand there_!" Emmett barked. "Get some help!"

That seemed to bring the pompous host out of his trance as he made a slashing motion across his neck to signal the cameraman to go to a break before he quickly detached the microphone from his lapel and motioned with his hand for a nearby doctor, who was onstage just in case of emergencies, to come over to provide assistance.

"Get back!" Winslow yelled at the bystanders mulling around curiously. "Give the doctor some room!"

A dark-haired man in a navy-blue suit and wearing a medical identification badge that said _Mason Crull, M.D. _hurried up and knelt down before the lifeless blond; he grasped Justin's wrist authoritatively as he listened for a pulse while Emmett remained crouched by his partner's side, astounded at this incredible turn of events. They had just gone from the depths of despair when their cake was sabotaged, to the highs of euphoria as their name was announced as one of the top three finalists, only to have Justin faint dead away immediately afterward.

"Come on, Baby, wake up," Em pleaded with his friend as he reached out to grasp his business partner's hand. _What could be wrong with him_? "Doctor?" he asked, concern apparent in his face.

"He's got a strong pulse," the doctor assured him. "I'll think he'll come around soon – I don't see any injuries. He didn't hit his head when he fell, did he?" the man asked clinically as he pulled Justin's eyelids back to observe his pupils, which appeared to be normal.

"I don't think so," Emmett told him. "He sort of crumpled down on his knees and then just fell over. But I didn't see him hit his head." _Come on, Justin…..wake up – you're missing your big accomplishment and you're SCARING me here!_ Emmett continued to silently plead with his friend to hear him, but Justin showed no signs of waking.

* * *

_Grand Auditorium_

As soon as Justin had fallen onto the floor and collapsed, Brian's heart dropped in his chest and he shot up out of his seat like a cannon. Unmindful of stepping on anyone's toes, he quickly scooted out of the row of seats as other spectators stood up to try and find out what was happening onstage; the entire room was in an uproar as dozens of station personnel, security, and other competitors milled around on stage, unsure of what to do.

Freed from his place of confinement in the middle of the row, Brian quickly ran up the aisle toward the left side of the stage only to be stopped by a uniformed guard standing at the top. "Sorry, Sir, only authorized personnel are permitted onto the stage," the man sternly announced; he grabbed Brian's arms as the brunet tried to bully his way past him. In angry frustration he tried to peer around the burly man, trying frantically to see how Justin was doing, but it was no use; so many people were rushing around the stage, either trying to control the mayhem that had followed Justin's unexpected collapse, or wanting to know what was going on, that he couldn't see anything through the sea of bodies. "Let me through, damn it!" he snarled as he tried to wriggle out the man's grasp, but it was futile. The man's large, heavy frame was simply too hard to escape from. "You son of a bitch!" he growled.

"Brian!" He turned his head to the side as he heard his name called. Bennett Rodgers came rushing over to him from atop the stage. "What are you _doing?_"

Brian's eyes flashed with fury as he fought to be released from the guard's clutches. "I'm trying to find out how _Justin's_ doing!" he growled. "Tell this fucking ape to let me _go_!"

From the grim determination on Brian's face, Rodgers knew the man would not take no for an answer. "Adams – let the man go," Rodgers instructed the guard in his "I'm the boss" voice. "I'll take responsibility for him," he explained to his employee.

The stocky, bald-headed man scowled darkly at Brian's audacity for several seconds before he grudgingly, roughly released him. He continued to glare at the brunet as Brian rushed off with his former college chum toward the center of the stage near the judges' table. He impatiently shoved whoever happened to be in his way aside as his body seemed to engage in a determined, one-minded automatic mode. _Got to find Justin, got to find Justin, got to find Justin…_

Finally, enough people parted at the middle of the stage for Brian to find his target. Justin was still lying on the floor, his head propped up in Emmett's lap now as the doctor listened to his heart with a stethoscope. Several other security guards had thankfully pushed the crowd back enough to give the doctor room to work; as Brian rushed up, however, his eyes were riveted on the blond man who had occupied his every thought for the past couple of weeks. He was alarmed by Justin's pale, ashen appearance; gone was the effervescent, passionate man he was used to seeing; in his place was a lifeless, limp shell of the dynamo he knew so well.

"Justin….." He murmured plaintively as he knelt down beside Emmett and reached his hand out to grasp his Doughboy's other hand; his thumb rubbed the top of the pale hand idly as he stared intently at the other man. Without removing his gaze, he whispered in a choked voice to the doctor, "What's wrong with him? Is he going to be all right?"

Emmett watched the other man closely, observing his bewildered, concerned expression and the overt tenderness Brian was displaying toward his friend. Gone was the cocky, self-assured and devil-may-care man he had seen that first day at the shop; in his place was a man seemingly, incredibly in _love_, a man consumed with alarm over Justin's condition. If Emmett hadn't been convinced before that Brian had changed and really cared about his friend, he certainly knew now. Anybody seeing him in his present state would readily be able to ascertain that as well.

The doctor looked up at Brian, thankfully not asking about his right to be there and responded, "I think he's just fainted – his vital signs are strong and I don't see any sign of injury." The physician had been at the show for the past three days and knew that Emmett was Justin's teammate; his next question, therefore, was directed to Justin's business partner as he asked, "Has he been getting enough sleep and eating during the competition?"

Emmett shook his head almost in embarrassment. "I think he's been under a lot of stress this past week," he replied. "Even though he didn't come out and say so, I don't think he's been sleeping too well; I know he's been really tired – I could tell just by looking at him. And I don't think he's had anything to eat since breakfast."

Brian silently cursed himself; he had seen Justin earlier during his break and hadn't even thought to ask him if he had had anything to eat. He recalled Justin saying something about getting a drink then, but he actually couldn't recall seeing him eating anything. Had he eaten at ALL today?

The doctor nodded seriously as he returned his study to his patient. "I have a feeling he's just suffering from dehydration and sleep deprivation," he stated. "I think he'll come around shortly, but I think he needs to be moved backstage where's there more room." The spotlights glaring overhead, along with the mass of people nearby, was making the stage extremely hot and smothering.

"Bennett!" Brian called out to his friend, who was standing nearby, unsure what to do about this latest, unexpected turn of events. "Help me get him off the stage!" Brian abruptly reached down and picked Justin up into his arms before rising with his precious load and walking a couple of steps toward his friend.

"Wait a minute!" he heard Winslow crying out indignantly. "What do you think you're _doing_? We're still broadcasting _live _here!" The cable network had cut away to a break, and then a short feature on the making of the show, but they were due to return to a live feed within the next 60 seconds.

"Are you out of your _fucking mind_?" Brian snarled, as he continued to cradle Justin firmly in his arms; the blond's head was lying, still lifeless, on his chest, oblivious to the drama playing out presently. "He's _fainted_ for fuck's sake! Get your head out of your ass - this is NOT about your stupid cake show! This man needs medical attention!" He didn't even wait for the host's sputtering, outraged reply as he whirled to follow his college friend toward the back of the stage and out through the thick, burgandy curtain's folds.

"This way," Rodgers told Brian, Emmett, and the doctor, who followed closely behind. They walked down a short, darkened hallway before Rodgers turned to his right and opened a door to lead them into some sort of apparent dressing room. There was a lighted, mirrored vanity table and chairs, a small armoire for hanging clothes, and a rather tattered, worn, paisley-decorated couch with two nearby stuffed chairs.

Brian walked over and gently lay Justin down on the couch, still protectively holding his hand as Rodgers and the doctor sat down on the stuffed chairs. "How long before he comes around?" Brian asked softly, still not able to take his eyes off his doughboy as the hazel orbs stared at the blond with great concern. He was perched on the side of the couch, not able to stray too far away from his heart's desire. "Shouldn't he be awake by now?" he asked as he continued to watch Justin, silently urging him to wake up before he went out of his mind with worry.

"Come on, Baby, wake up," Emmett, who was leaning against a nearby wall, pleaded with his partner. He couldn't believe after everything they had had to overcome this week that his friend would have _this _befall him; fervently hoping that he had just fainted from exhaustion, Emmett silently prayed that Justin would awake soon.

As the doctor continued to examine the blond, Brian cradled his own head in his other hand on his knee in helpless frustration as he waited anxiously for Justin to awaken; a soft moan caused his head to jerk up and immediately hone in on the blond, whose eyelashes were slowly fluttering in an apparent attempt to open. "Justin? Wake up!" Brian softly cajoled. "Open your eyes, Justin!" He squeezed the blond's hand slightly in an attempt to get his attention, and was finally awarded when the blue eyes he was always so mesmerized with finally opened up; there was a brief moment of disorientation as Justin apparently tried to focus properly before he finally turned his gaze to look up into the worried face of Brian Kinney. "Br….Brian?" he whispered, confused. He turned his head slightly to observe the concerned visage of his business partner leaning against a dark red wall, as well as a couple of unfamiliar faces peering back at him intently from two nearby chairs. His brow creased in puzzlement as he asked, "What happened? Where am I?"

He began to rise from his prone position, only to be tenderly but firmly pushed back down by two determined, muscled arms. "Just rest, Justin," Brian told him softly, relief apparent in his slightly choked voice. "You fainted on stage," he explained as he smiled reassuringly. He swallowed a lump of emotion as he added, "You'll going to be fine…..the doctor just thinks you were affected by the hot lights and not having eaten today. What were you _thinking_?" he gently chided him.

"Em?" Justin said as he turned his head, observing his business partner also peering back at him in relief. "What happened? The last thing I remember was standing on stage, waiting for the finalists to be announced."

Emmett smiled broadly as he told his friend, "You sure know how to bring down the house, baby; you missed the best part. We were the last name called out!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Justin frowned. _Did Emmett mean what he thought he meant?_ "We're one of the finalists?" he asked in disbelief.

"You bet your buns, Sugar!" Emmett verified. "We're still in the running for the grand prize! Isn't that great?"

Justin began to smile in delight as realization dawned that his friend was actually serious. "I don't believe it," he said, looking up at Brian, who smiled back at him and nodded in confirmation. "A finalist," he repeated in wonder. A sudden thought occurred to him as he asked anxiously, "What _time_ is it?"

"A little past eleven," Rodgers told him, glancing up at a clock posted overhead the door.

Brian watched, alarmed, as Justin tried once again to rise. "I've got to get back on stage!" he said urgently. "We're supposed to be out there!" He tried to prop himself up on his elbows only to be once again firmly restrained by Brian, who stared at him in astonishment.

"You're not going _anywhere_, Doughboy," Brian told him curtly, not even considering how that endearment might sound to the others. "Not until the doctor says it's okay. You need to rest – you're fucking exhausted."

"But…."

"No buts, Justin," Brian said with finality as he firmly held Justin down by the shoulders; the blond fought feebly for his release for a few seconds, but he knew by Brian's determined look and his firm grasp of his shoulders that he was fighting a losing battle. Realized he was defeated, at least temporarily, he sighed as he leaned back down onto the couch. "But…the contest," he pressed on feebly.

"It's all right, Mr. Taylor," Rodgers told him. "They're delaying the prize award ceremony for 30 minutes until they can find out how you're doing," he told him as he flipped his phone shut. "I just talked to the sponsor – they're just doing a recap until then in hopes the winner can still be announced live with ALL the finalists on stage. If worse comes to worse, your partner can fill in for your team during the final judges' analysis and announcement of the grand prize winner."

Justin sighed; at least they would still be represented. But he _really_ wanted to be up on the stage with Emmett when the winner was announced; they had both worked so hard for this moment, and good or bad, he wanted to be up there with his business partner. "Brian…"

Brian kept his grasp on the slender, petite shoulders as he asked softly, "What?"

"Get me something to eat and drink – I want to go back out there."

Brian twisted his mouth in disapproval; he really didn't like the idea of Justin going back out on that incredibly sweltering stage – just the few minutes he had been up there made him realize just how terribly hot it _was_ – but he also knew how stubborn a certain blond could be. He figured, then, that he at least had to let Justin try to regain his strength enough to go back out on stage. "Emmett….would you go get something for him? I'd like to stay here."

Emmett stared at this man who had seemingly been transposed by his friend, marveling at the difference. He had always noted the way Brian seemed to treat his friend differently somehow, but until tonight he really wasn't convinced he would treat Justin properly with the respect and love he deserved. He was glad, then, to realize that he really _did_ care a great deal for his friend. "Sure," he finally said simply. "I'll be right back."

"Mr. Taylor, I don't really recommend you go back out there," the doctor cautioned him. "If you ARE dehydrated and sleep deprived, you are risking having it happen again."

Justin took a shaky breath and let it out; truth be told, he still felt a little wobbly, even lying down. But he was hopeful that if he gobbled down some sort of food quickly and took in some liquids, it would provide him with enough fortitude to be able to reappear on stage. After fighting for three days to get to this point, he couldn't imagine not being a part of the finale. "I understand," he told the doctor. "But I really want – I NEED – to do this."

Brian's heart swelled with pride over this fiercely independent, persistent and courageous man. He had never quite met anyone like this man, and he was going to enjoy learning even more about him - _immensely_. As Justin looked over at him for support, he reached over and gently brushed some stray hairs out of his eyes. "You go get 'em, Doughboy," he whispered softly so only the blond could hear. Justin sighed a little, heartened by Brian's support, before he smiled back gratefully at the brunet and nodded his head.

Emmett returned shortly with an apple, a roast beef sandwich and a bottle of spring water. "Thanks, Em," Justin said as Brian finally permitted him to sit up and take a swig from the bottle. He draped a supportive arm around Justin's shoulders as he watched him carefully, occasionally chiding the blond to slow down as Justin eventually finished his meal within ten minutes. He looked up at the clock, which now read 11:20 p.m.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked him from his seated position in one of the chairs. He studied the blond's complexion, which definitely appeared to be less pasty-looking and not as ashen. "Still feeling dizzy or woozy?"

Justin shook his head. It wasn't the total truth – he still felt a little achy and his back still hurt like hell – but at least the nausea and dizziness had disappeared, and he felt a little stronger now that he had eaten and drunk something. "I feel a lot better, doctor," he reassured the other man. "Can I go back out now?"

He didn't look directly over at Brian for fear the man would surmise how he really felt, but he was determined not to let anything keep him from this momentous event in his life; he knew he and Emmett had at least won $5,000 for their efforts, but not only would the additional money help him pay for tuition and get their business firmly off the ground, but there was the _principle _of the whole thing. He wasn't about to let whoever tried to prevent them from competing from stopping him _now_ – they had come much too far to let that happen.

The doctor eyed him carefully before finally coming to a decision. "All right, Mr. Taylor," he agreed. "I'll give you approval to return to the stage. But I'm going to stay close by just in case you need help."

Justin nodded at him and smiled in understanding as he slowly swung his legs around. He rolled his eyes a little as Brian insisted on helping him rise to his feet; Brian just smirked at his reaction as he held onto Justin's arm firmly until he was assured the blond was going to be all right by himself; he finally let go after Justin stood up for a few seconds and seemed to be steady on his feet.

"I'm okay," he reassured both Brian and Emmett, who nodded. "Let's go do this, partner," he told Emmett with determination.

Emmett clapped his hands a couple of times in both relief and happiness that his friend was all right. "You got it, Baby," he whispered; he reached over and gave Justin a small kiss on the cheek and a brief hug before releasing him.

"Come on," Rodgers instructed the men. "I'll help clear the way to get you back on stage," he told the other men. "It's apparently a fucking zoo up there right now," he told them. The stage director had informed him earlier that Justin's unfortunate mishap had thrown all their well-choreographed plans into total disarray; they were eager to get their last finalist back up on stage so they could continue the much-anticipated finale as soon as possible.

As Justin began to walk back toward the staging area, he stopped and turned around to look at Brian, who was following closely behind him, mainly to ensure the blond was really up to resuming his participation in the contest. "Brian?" he asked softly. He noticed the other men were a few paces ahead of them, leaving the two of them relatively alone for the first time since last night.

"Yeah, Doughboy?" Brian answered; the brunet's gaze was so heated that Justin found himself blushing slightly at the attention.

"Will you stay on stage while I'm finishing?" Justin really didn't know why it mattered if Brian was nearby on stage, or sitting down in one of the front rows; he just knew for some reason he needed this man up there with him while he finished the competition.

Brian smiled, pleased that Justin wanted him close by. He wasn't sure how Rodgers would feel about letting him stay up on the stage, but at that moment he didn't care. He would do whatever it took to be up there with his Doughboy.

"I'll be up there with you," he said with conviction, receiving a smile of delight from the other man. He couldn't help taking advantage of their relative privacy behind the thick curtain to pull Justin toward him quickly and place a willing kiss on the soft, pink lips. He heard Justin utter a soft sigh as he reluctantly pulled back from him several seconds later.

"You'd better get going, Doughboy – your idolizing fans await your genius," he teased the blond, who rolled his eyes in amusement before turning around to proceed toward the front of the performance area. He hesitated for a few seconds, turning around to gaze back at Brian, before he nodded slightly and parted the curtains.

As Justin emerged once again on stage, confronted with the public glare of the spotlight, Brian stood at the back of the competition area, unobserved. He couldn't help thinking as he watched Justin walking back up to the judges' table, _Not all of your idolizing fans are out there, Doughboy…...there's one right here._

__

_

* * *

_

"Welcome back to _Wedding Cake Wars_!"

Paul Winslow spoke directly into the camera, pretending that nothing unusual had happened in the past thirty minutes to warrant a delay in the finale. The studio audience certainly knew what had happened, but because the camera had actually been panned on the judges' table at the time Justin had fainted, the millions of television viewers had been left with a vague explanation that, again due to "technical difficulties," there had been a "delay" in proceeding with the final part of the competition.

"We are back _live_ at the final day of the competition!" he continued. "The three teams who were picked as the finalists are waiting anxiously, as are the rest of us, for the judges' final determination as to who will be the $10,000 winner!"

As he proceeded with his reporting, the cameras and microphones panned over to the judges' table once more as the four conversed quietly regarding their choices for the grand prize winner. Only the television audience, however, would be privy to the conversation as it progressed; to heighten the drama, however, the final decision would not be divulged until Winslow announced the winner to all of the audience.

"I don't like it," the head judge, Sylvia Cooper, was saying flatly to the others at their private table. "He's flaunting the rules here. A wedding cake topper should consist of a man and woman, not _Adam and Steve,_" she said scornfully.

"But his fondant work is flawless, and his detailing is incredible," one of the other judges, Maria Sanchez, was pointing out, choosing to ignore the woman's opinionated diatribe. She was disgusted that the other woman was allowing her bigoted views to influence what should be an _objective _decision, one that should be clearly obvious to everyone responsible for judging the designs. "I've never seen such meticulous design work. And he _did_ stick to his assigned theme – adventure."

The other judges murmured their agreement with their fellow colleague's assessment of Justin's innate talent as Sylvia glared stubbornly at them.

"For someone so young, he has remarkable talent and creativity," one of the other judges, Jonathan Moeller, opined; he had been the judge who had replaced Dylan Howell when the man had been disqualified due to "technical difficulties," thanks to a certain brunet ad executive. "I haven't seen this type of detail work with designers _twice_ his age."

"But he IS young – that still gives him time to develop his talent even further," Cooper maintained, trying a different tact. "The other teams have a maturity that he doesn't."

"So, what, does that make their designs _better_?" Earl Clayborn, the British judge argued. "We penalize him and make him wait just because it's his first time? I should point out, also, that Mr. Taylor is correct; I checked the regulations closely during the delay – there is absolutely _nothing_ in the rules and regulations that stipulate the cake topper must consist of a man and a woman – it just says the "couple" should be a personalized reflection of the design itself, which his most certainly is. I don't think it's fair not to award it to him simply because he's younger than the others and might have the chance to compete for it again. That's not fair to HIM or true to the spirit of the competition."

"I'm not so sure I agree with that," Cooper countered back as the other three judges looked at her in annoyance. Consistently an orthodox, conservative influence in the culinary world, she was convinced that Justin's unexpected take on the traditional man-and-woman cake topper was inappropriate. "There should be a certain decorum upheld in these contests – Mr. Taylor's decision to pervert that tradition could come across as distasteful to the mainstream public who follow these events."

Earl Clayborn rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Come on, Sylvia!" He retorted, his clipped, elegant English accent sounding high-pitched from his irritation. "The whole purpose of this contest is to highlight creativity and thinking outside the box. I think the design from _Cakes of Art_ exemplifies that ideal _perfectly_! How can you not _see_ that?"

"His design work IS unsurpassed," Maria Sanchez agreed. "I have _never_ seen such perfect execution. And don't forget – he and his partner had to almost start all over again when their cake was sabotaged. That speaks volumes toward his dedication and drive. I don't know if most of the other design teams up there could have redone almost their entire design in the amount of time HE had. He should be applauded for his efforts."

Sylvia Cooper snorted. "Perhaps," she said snootily. "But that _still_ doesn't mean he has to be the grand prize winner – he's already a top three finalist. I think that's enough recognition."

The back and forth bickering continued at the judges' table for several minutes as the three waiting teams grew more and more anxious.

"What in the world could be taking so long?" Emmett leaned down and whispered to his friend as they stood there tiredly. "I was told their part was only supposed to take five minutes or so. They've been discussing their decision for at least _fifteen_ minutes now."

Justin lightly balanced back and forth on his feet as he waited impatiently beside Emmett. "I don't know," he said fretfully; despite his meal and water a short time ago, he was still feeling some of the effects of his exhaustion and was anxious to get the whole matter resolved, no matter _what_ the outcome. Of course, he was as hopeful as Emmett that somehow they would wind up the winner, but at this point it was impossible to tell. He could tell the judges' conversation was being broadcast to the television audience, but from their standpoint he couldn't hear anything that was actually being said.

"Maybe they're having a difference of opinion," he stated perceptively, not aware of just how correct he was since they couldn't hear the conversation. "I don't know if that's good or bad, though…."

"Yeah," Emmett agreed. "Your guess is as good as mine, Baby." He closely peered down at his friend's face, which appeared slightly flushed. "Are you doing okay?" he asked, a little concerned. He thought his friend didn't look much better than before when he had fainted in front of millions of viewers and the studio audience.

"I still feel a little hot," Justin admitted. "But not as bad as before," he hastily assured his friend. "I'll be okay….I just wish they'd hurry up, _whatever_ they've decided."

Still standing near the back of the curtain, Brian was wondering the same thing. _What in the hell was taking so long_? He knew Justin wasn't a hundred percent recovered from his fainting spell, and he was anxious to get his Doughboy off the stage and somewhere where he could rest. He fleetingly thought disappointingly that Justin's need to get some rest might put a distinctive damper on their tentative plans to go back to his loft afterward; he was actually surprised, however, to realize that if he and Justin couldn't follow through on their plans tonight, he would be disappointed but he wouldn't be especially worried about it. He was convinced that he and Justin would be seeing a lot more of each other in the near future, at least he _hoped_ so.

"Hey, Brian," Bennett Rodgers greeted his old friend as he walked over to stand beside him. "I had a feeling you'd be around here somewhere." He hadn't missed the looks that had passed between his friend and the creative, beautiful, blond cake designer. It just bolstered his suspicion that Brian's motives for getting Justin Taylor entered as a contestant was much more than just a proprietary interest on his friend's part. He still couldn't deny the man's talent, however, and he knew the sponsor had been the ultimate judge of whether to let Taylor compete or not, so the man had earned his place in the contest. Now it appeared that Brian's friend may be on the brink of the ultimate prize in the cake-designing world.

"What's going on over there?" Brian asked him, nodding his head toward the judges' table. "I thought they were only going to take five minutes to make their decision."

Rodgers twisted his lips knowingly. His friend was definitely much more interested than a typical bystander. "That was my understanding, too," Rodgers confirmed. "Apparently, though, from what the security people tell me, they're having a difference of opinion. And I already _know_ how pig-headed Sylvia Cooper can be – this could take a while."

Observing the stiff, haughty appearance of the older woman, Brian muttered, "Just what Justin needed."

"You think he'll hold up okay?" his friend asked.

"Of course," Brian answered with certainty. The truth was, though, he was worried about him. Even from a fair distance away, he could tell Justin still wasn't a hundred percent recovered. He just didn't want his friend to somehow think less of Justin or his abilities _because _of it. "He'll be fine.," he added. He just wished he _knew_ that would be the case. _Hurry up_, he silently beseeched the judges.

At the judges' table, however, the difference of opinion continued. When no clear-cut consensus was forthcoming after 20 minutes, the show's host felt compelled to walk over during yet another break and find out what was taking longer than anticipated. "What's going on?" he asked somewhat crossly. After all, he had been up since before 6 a.m., and had been promised the show would wrap up promptly at 11:00 p.m. It was now well past 11:45 and there was STILL no ending in sight. "When are we going to have a decision? The audience is getting antsy, ladies and gentlemen. We're _live_, remember?"

"Of _course_ we remember, Winslow!" Sylvia retorted disdainfully. "We're the ones in the spotlight here! It's not YOUR every word being broadcast! If you must know, we are having difficulty reaching a unanimous decision; according to the rules, the grand prize winner must be agreed upon by everyone."

"Tell him the _truth_, Sylvia!" Jonathan Moeller hissed at her. "We WOULD have a unanimous decision if it weren't for your homophobic beliefs! It's obvious to the rest of us who the winner should be! Just fucking get over your phobia and make the right choice for a change!" Winslow didn't have to be a member of Mensa to know who they were talking about; after all, Justin Taylor's rather unusual cake-topper design, as well as his problems earlier with the vandal, were well-known, at least among the stage personnel and other contestants. It was _also_ obvious who the winner should be. He glared at the reason for his tortuously-long day. "Put your straight-lace convictions aside, Sylvia, and get it the hell _over _with!" he blasted the older woman, who scowled angrily at him in return. "The man _deserves_ the prize! And WE all deserve to go HOME!" He huffed out a furious breath before stomping back over to his assigned spot on the stage, hoping the obstinate woman would soon take his advice and allow them to finally end this interminable evening.

* * *

Emmett glanced once again at his friend, who was looking more and more peaked as the minutes wore on. "You hanging in there, Baby?"

Justin sighed in frustration; his forehead had once again broken out in a sweat from the intense glare of the spotlights. "Yeah…..I'm okay, I guess. I just wish they'd get this over with. I don't understand what the problem is. If they didn't want to accept what I did, they just need to come out and say so. Winslow looks absolutely disgusted with the whole situation, too."

He had watched as their host had marched over to the judges' table for several seconds, and had returned soon afterward with an angry look on his face to take his mark during the commercial break. During their current break, Justin had also tried to search for Brian without success. Even though he couldn't see him, however, he somehow knew he was there somewhere on stage, and that at least filled him with some sense of hope that everything would turn out all right. In fact, he KNEW it would, no matter what the decision was, as long as he and Brian wound up together.

"Look!" Emmett whispered urgently, grabbing Justin's arm. They watched intently as one of the male judges waved a tall, blond-haired woman in a red, sequined gown over to their table and whispered something to her. She reached down and retrieved a small, rectangular white card and walked it over to the show's host. "I think they've finally made a decision!" he said excitedly.

Justin watched as Paul Winslow scanned the card and nodded. As the director motioned with his hand that they were back on the air, he began to speak into the microphone. "I have some exciting news, ladies and gentleman – we finally have the grand prize winner!"

Emmett clapped his hands. "This is it, Baby!" he said to Justin, who nodded thankfully, his heart beginning to pound at news of the announcement. At this point, he still desperately wanted to win, but he was beginning to feel so weak, he would gratefully accept _any _prize, just to get off the stifling stage and into Brian's waiting arms.

"Would the three pairs of finalists please approach the center of the stage?" Winslow instructed. As the show theme music began to pay dramatically over the loudspeakers, the two pairs of team members from Lone Star Treats and Swiss Delights, along with Justin and Emmett, slowly walked over toward the show's host, taking their places at the appointed spot where their faces would be broadcast live to millions of television viewers, in addition to the several thousand spectators still sitting or standing out in the audience. As Justin glanced out at the sea of faces below, he was astounded that, even with the long delay and late hour, apparently almost everyone had remained in the Grand Auditorium, just to find out who the ultimate winner was.

He bit his lip in nervous anticipation as they waited for the announcement. Winslow glanced down at the card to make sure he had the information right before stating, "I will read the third-place winner first," as everyone groaned in frustration. An extremely long, pregnant pause followed as a huge hush fell over the audience and stage whie everyone waited for the moment everyone had waited for all week – who would be the grand prize winner of the prestigious _Wedding Cake Wars_.

Finally, Winslow revealed the name. "The third-place winner, taking home a trophy and a prize worth $5,000 is….._Lone Star Treats!"_ A polite round of applause broke out in the audience, as well as on stage, as the somewhat-disappointed team from Texas graciously walked toward their host to accept their gold trophy of a bereted chef holding up a platter with a cake on it, and a check made out to them for the prize money.

Justin blinked in shock as the reality of their situation dawned on them. He and Emmett were one name away from being the winner of the contest!

"Oh, my God!" Emmett cried into his friend's ear. "Oh, my God, Baby!" He squeezed Justin's arm tightly. "We could actually _WIN_ this thing!" When he had seen the invitation to his friend to compete in the cake contest, he never in his wildest dreams thought they would get this far, despite his thorough confidence in his friend's abilities. Now they were close to seeing that unbelievable possibility actually becoming a _reality_.

From the back of the stage, Brian watched with rapt attention as Justin was still standing in the winner's circle, waiting to find out his fate. "Come on, Doughboy, come on…..show 'em what you got!" he whispered to himself, trying somehow to silently broadcast to Justin how much he believed in him.

Justin bit his lip nervously, not quite able to believe that out of 11 total teams competing, he and Emmett were standing next to only one other team, waiting to find out who the grand prize winner. Was it possible…..? Could he dare hope….?

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, it comes down to this. Only one team can be the grand prize winner of the _Wedding Cake Wars_. Only one team can take home the $10,000 grand prize and the esteem and recognition that comes with being the winner."

Justin found himself trembling in nervousness and exhaustion while a drum roll sounded over the loudspeaker and Emmett reached over to grab his hand to grip it. This was it…..the tumultuous ending to their three-day saga. The moment he and Emmett had been working for, had been dreaming of…

"I can't _stand _this!" Emmett whispered as he fidgeted in anticipation; he was holding Justin's hand so tightly, his partner thought it would go numb if the winner wasn't announced soon. Fortunately, the suspense was almost over.

As the taped drum continued to roll and everyone held their breath, their host began to utter the words everyone had been waiting so long to hear. "Ladies and gentleman, it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you the grand prize winner of tonight's _Wedding Cake Wars._"

"Fucking SAY it!" Brian hissed under his breath as he waited anxiously like everyone else for the announcement. He _hated_ these melodramatic delays. "Spit it the hell out, Winslow!" he muttered.

As the tall, blond female model held the gold-and-diamond studded grand prize trophy in her hands, Winslow finally finished his much-anticipated statement and ended everyone's intense curiosity. "Ladies and gentlemen, the winner is….._Cakes of Art _from good old Pittsburgh, PA‼"

The room exploded in a sea of excitement, whoops, claps, and shouts of delight as Justin stood there in shock. Did the host really call out their name? He wasn't really sure, until he noticed Emmett jumping up and down in the air, pumping his arm furiously. "We did it, we did it!" he shouted above the din. "We did it, Baby‼" He spontaneously reached down and hoisted his surprised partner up into the air in celebration before putting him back down in vindication.

From his position at the back of the stage, Brian beamed. He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle of approval through his teeth. "Way to go, Doughboy!" he shouted, uncaring if anyone heard him call Justin by his pet name or not. At that moment, he didn't care WHO heard – he was too deliriously happy for Justin. "You did it, Doughboy…you DID it," he whispered. "I'm so fucking proud of you." He felt like a new father giving birth to a creative genius as he watched Justin standing there in shock. He shook his head in amusement as he watched Emmett jumping up and down for joy while Justin stood there immobile, still trying to absorb what Winslow had just announced.

Justin finally began to comprehend what had been said and blinked, turning to his business partner, who gave him a hug. "We DID it!" Emmett repeated in joy. "YOU did it! You're a GENIUS, Baby!" he shouted. "Come on!" he implored his friend, as he tugged on his hand to urge him to accompany him over to Winslow, who was waiting to award their trophy and prize money.

Justin shook his head in disbelief, still too overcome to fully realize they had actually won. Finally, he allowed Emmett to pull him over toward the center of the stage to accept the accolades raining down on them as the crowd, now standing on their feet, continued to applaud and whoop in approval.

As they reached Winslow's side, the female model reached out to hand the gleaming, gold and diamond trophy to Justin, who reached for it gingerly as if he still couldn't quite believe what had just happened. He stared at the trophy, emblazoned with an inscription verifying them as the Grand Prize Winner (the sponsor had provided each team's name to the director with a small, engraved plaque beforehand for easy insertion of the actual winner later), and shook his head again in stunned incredulity. As their host handed him a check for $10,000 payable to _Cakes of Art_, however, he finally knew he wasn't dreaming. This was really happening – he and Emmett had done it!

He began to smile radiantly as comprehension dawned and he looked over at Emmett, who was beaming and soaking up all the attention being lavished on the two of them by the live audience and the television cameras.

"Congratulations, _Cakes of Art!_" Winslow exclaimed. "Mr. Taylor, how does it feel to be the youngest-winning contestant in history?"

Justin didn't know if he could even speak, but finally he managed to vocalize his thoughts. I'm…..stunned, but very grateful," he said, shaking his head as he clapped a hand over his forehead and let out a deep breath. "This is so hard to believe." He glanced over at Emmett, was placed his hand around the blond's shoulders supportively and gave them a squeeze as he smiled back at his partner. "I can't take all the credit for this, though," he said softly, looking at Emmett, who winked at him. My business partner and I did it _together_. It was a TEAM effort." He smiled at his friend, who had always believed in him and had supported all his efforts over the past week. He knew he never could have done it without Emmett at his side, helping him and keeping his spirits up.

"Well, congratulations to both of you," Winslow replied smoothly; the man was anxious to get the whole ceremony over with, but his professional, polished demeanor took over automatically as he went through the motions. "Mr. Honeycutt, would you like to add anything else to what your partner said?"

Emmett's brief period in the spotlight was virtually lost on Justin as he stood there by his side, still amazed over what had just happened. He watched, amused though, as Emmett hammed it up for the camera, Winslow, and the studio audience, expressing his jubilation and appreciation with flamboyant hand movements as he spoke excitedly about their experiences this past week.

Finally, after awarding the second place winner their trophy and prize money, and expressing his congratulations to all of the finalists, Winslow bid the television and auditorium audience good night as the theme from _Wedding Cake Wars_ once again blasted from the loudspeakers and the competition came to a close at last.

Justin let out a huge sigh of relief that the week was _finally_ over. Several of the contestants walked up to him and Emmett to offer their congratulations, and the two of them were obligated to stand there for several minutes while the media took numerous photographs of them and asked he and Emmett a multitude of questions about their three days at the competition, including his rationale for using a gay couple as the wedding cake topper.

As several press corpsmen listened, he explained, "I wanted to hopefully provide food for thought for those who do not think a gay couple can be monogamous and faithful to each other. I want them to consider that it IS possible for two people, no matter _what_ their sexual orientation, to be loving and committed to one another." He paused for a few seconds as the reporters waited for him to continue before adding softly, "I hope one day these types of relationships will be recognized just like any other couple who want to get married."

He hadn't really intended at the outset of the competition to turn it into something politically controversial, but in the end he decided the possible negative consequences would be worth it, if it would provide thoughtful discussion about it. Of course, actually being named the grand prize winner was, literally, _icing on the cake_, he thought as he smiled to himself.

As the crowd finally began to thin out and Emmett went in search of some of his adoring fans at the bar, Justin was finally, blissfully fairly alone and able to try and look for the man he had been eagerly hoping to see. As he cradled the heavy, lavishly-appointed trophy in both of his arms, the check securely tucked inside his pants pocket, he began to look around anxiously for Brian. Even though the crowd had diminished considerably, making it easier to spot people that remained on the stage, his efforts to find the brunet were unsuccessful. "Brian," he whispered aloud as he craned his head right and left in a concerted effort to find him. "Where _are_ you?" he said, worried that he had somehow missed him. Had Brian left for some reason?

He jumped a little when he felt a pair of warm arms slowly, sensually wrap themselves around his waist and pull him against a lean, hard body. Even if he hadn't heard anyone speak, he would have known the feel of those arms _anywhere_. His heart began to race in anticipation as he heard a deep, sexy voice ask, "Looking for someone, _Doughboy_?" A pair of probing, soft lips nuzzled his neck, sending Justin's body into electric overload, despite his exhausted state. He quickly decided that Brian Kinney was the antidote to _anything_ that assailed him as he relished in the feeling only this man could give him.

He slowly turned around, proceeding to bump Brian accidentally with the trophy in the process. As he smiled sheepishly at the brunet, Brian mockingly glared at him before he firmly grabbed the cumbersome, bulky trophy and placed it down on the ground so he could provide the "prize winner" with a little specialized form of congratulations of his own.

He quickly took Justin in his arms, noticing to his satisfaction that the blond willingly returned the gesture, placing his own, pale slender hands around his back as he pulled him flush against his own body. "I _knew _you would win, Doughboy," he drawled softly, his lips curling under in that adorable, oh-so-sexy way. The tone and conviction in Brian's voice convinced Justin that Brian had, indeed, believed every word he was saying. It didn't matter, though - Justin decided he would have come out the winner regardless of the competition's outcome, as long as he had THIS man's heart...

He face warmed at the intense stare he was getting; this time he knew the effect wasn't from the bright spotlights, which had long been extinguished. "Oh, you _did, _did you?" he said playfully, his blue eyes twinkling.

Brian waggled his eyebrows before replying, "You_ bet _I did," he verified. "Now I have the pleasure of congratulating the winner _personally_," he said huskily. "I'm waiting for that _private celebration_ we talked about earlier. Are you ready to go?" he asked softly, not able to completely mask the unexpected hope as well as anxiousness, almost uncertainty, in his voice. He hadn't always treated Justin the way such a special man should be treated, and he would regret that for a long time. Now, though, was the time to erase that sad period of unhappiness with something much more pleasant – for _both_ of them.

He felt his heart leap at the tender smile his Doughboy was giving him as Justin answered, a little shyly, "Yes…..I'm ready."

Brian's hazel eyes bored into the crystal blue ones as he leaned in to give the blond a tender kiss, one that was way too short but spoke volumes in the promise it held. He smiled at Justin as he said, "Good….let's go."

He reluctantly let Justin go so he could lean down and pick up the ostentatiously-decorated trophy for him, noticing with some trepidation that Justin seemed to be hesitating about something. Was he going to change his mind and not go home with after all? Or was he still feeling ill? "Justin?" he asked softly. "Something wrong?" _Please don't say no NOW, Doughboy….I want a chance to make things up to you…._

He was relieved when Justin smiled back at him reassuringly. "No….I mean, yes, I'm going with you. I just need to get a piece of the cake for Gus, that's all. I promised him."

Brian smiled, amazed at the man's thoughtfulness even now for his son. "You sure you want to cut up that _masterpiece_?" he asked somewhat teasingly. To be honest, though, he _did_ hate to dismantle the edible work of art that Justin had worked so hard to create, and then had to _recreate_ due to the homophobic saboteur.

Justin smiled and shook his head. "It's okay," he explained. "Believe me, they took _tons_ of pictures of it. It will be forever immortalized, I'm sure. It'll probably be around longer than the _real thing _was." As Brian smiled back at him and nodded in understanding, he walked over to the prize-winning cake standing rather dejectedly now at one of the judges' tables, and picking up a nearby spatula, he began to cut a large wedge out of the ship's bow.

Brian made a spontaneous decision, even though he normally wouldn't be caught _dead_ eating anything that had such an insanely high amount of carbs in it at this time of night. "Get some extra pieces," he asked. "I think they might come in handy _later_."

Justin wasn't quite sure what Brian had in mind, but something told him it wasn't because he was suddenly craving dessert – at least, not THAT type of dessert, he thought, as his body thrummed with heated anticipation at the thought of just what Brian might have planned. He knew enough to know that the brunet was never predictable or ordinary; so no matter WHAT Brian had in mind, he had no doubt it would be quite exhilarating.

"Finally ready to go, Doughboy?" Brian asked him again softly as Justin placed the three pieces of cake in a nearby Styrofoam container and closed the lid. He again stood there, apparently in thought as Brian began to grow anxious for their own special form of celebration to come. He laughed softly, however, as he noticed Justin reach up into the top of the schooner and retrieve Popeye and Oliver Oyl from their own, unique love nest.

As Justin turned around to face him, a sheepish but totally adorable look on his face, he smiled at Brian now and said, "NOW I'm ready."

Brian nodded as Justin crooked his arm through Brian's and they walked toward the side of the stage. Justin's moment of fame in the spotlight was finally over, but he was sure the BEST part of the night was yet to come.


	32. Chapter 32: Off to Dreamland

_Forty-Five Minutes Later_

Brian rolled his eyes and sighed softly as yet one more enamored "fan" excitedly spoke to Justin by the elevators. A walk from the Grand Auditorium to the parking lot below that would have typically taken perhaps fifteen minutes had, instead, stretched into almost an hour as they were stopped repeatedly along the way by either well-wishers congratulating the blond on his winning entry, potential clients wanting to get a business card from him, or just plain, out-and-out male – as well as _female_ - admirers trying to overtly flirt and/or pick him up.

At least this _latest_ "fan" was a middle-aged female, he thought with relief. He had flashed so many glares at several of Justin's admirers tonight between the auditorium and parking lot that he was now watching intently to make sure none of the "females" were actually drag queens trying to lure the blond away.

"You're very kind," he heard Justin say appreciatively as the lady smiled at the attention. "Just give the shop a call and we'll be glad to help you," Brian heard him say for probably the twentieth time in the past hour. He shook his head in frustration. Not only was he horny as hell just looking at his Doughboy's animated face as he spoke to this woman, he was also, truth be told, just a little concerned that Justin was overdoing himself. After all, it hadn't been that long ago that Justin had passed out on stage due to a combination of exhaustion and not taking care of himself. And, besides, he needed a little "taking care" of, too…..

"Ah, excuse me, Ma'am," Brian said, walking over to them and smiling as he poured on the charm. "Mr. Taylor has a _pressing engagement_ this evening," he advised, nodding at her in dismissal as he grabbed the blond's elbow and proceeded to pull him forcefully toward the nearby elevator. As Justin muttered an apologetic murmur at the woman, Brian punched the button and pulled the blond in immediately after it opened. He was thankful that no one else was in the car as he quickly slammed his hand down on the "close door" button located on the inside panel to ensure no one else had the audacity to enter _with_ them. The doors slowly (TOO slowly for his taste) closed, leaving the two of them alone at last.

Justin stared back at him in amusement as Brian turned to smile at him in satisfaction. "What was _that_ all about? A _pressing engagement_?" His soft blue eyes, somewhat clouded over in exhaustion, peered back at him curiously as Brian noticed a slight smile on his face.

"Yeah, you do," Brian murmured huskily as he punched one MORE button on the panel – the STOP button, and walked the few steps back over to his companion. As Justin stood with his back against the rear of the car, the brunet placed both of his hands on either side of the blond's head and leaned in closely. "A _VERY…_pressing…..engagement," he whispered in Justin's ear as the blond shivered in response.

Despite his extreme tiredness, Justin's body instantly perked up at the sultry tone in Brian's voice – at least, one particular _part_ did, anyway. Brian smirked as he leaned in to place his lips against Justin's; as he felt his Doughboy responding to the invitation by opening his mouth for a sweeter, deeper exploration, he placed one hand against the back of Justin's neck to pull him further in, while his other hand began its trek to Justin's denim-clad crotch to give his hardening cock a firm squeeze.

At the predatory contact, Justin bit back a moan in his throat as Brian plundered his mouth, his tongue slowly swabbing the roof; just like some kind of oral octopus, his tongue seemed to be several places at once in Justin's mouth as the blond fought for breath. He knew in seconds that Brian would have him splayed out on the floor of the elevator and disrobing him in record time as they slowly began to sink down toward the floor together…

An unexpected, incessant beep began to sound from the elevator console, rousing them from their sensual journey. Brian seemed almost oblivious to the interruption as he began to unbutton Justin's shirt urgently; his lips had moved from Justin's mouth now to his neck, where he was currently suckling on the tender flesh before placing small bites all along the side.

"Br…Brian," Justin struggled to say in between pants of desire; he tried to pull the brunet's arms away from his shirt but Brian simply pulled the protesting hands away firmly and continued his attack with his lips; he had finished with Justin's neck and were now engaged in a little licking and suckling motion on the blond's nipples, which were exposed now that his shirt was wide open. "The elevator…..Ahhhhh," Justin moaned as Brian continued his assault unabated.

A mechanized voice began to speak from the nearby intercom. "Elevator on standby. Resuming motion in five seconds…"

The two lovers, however, were not paying it any heed; Brian was too busy attempting to remove the rest of Justin's clothes, and Justin was too busy trying to keep them _ON, _afraid that someone would appear any minute as the elevator finally gave a slight jolt and began to descend slowly down toward the parking garage.

"Brian," he again panted breathlessly. He heard Brian chuckle against his chest as the brunet's lips continued to tickle his skin. He couldn't help giggling at the delightful prickling as he tried once more to regain his voice. "Brian, _stop_…..the elevator." His cock was rebelling against his words, however, as it began to leak profusely from the barrage of sensual sensations he was presently experiencing. He blindly splayed his palms against the taut, muscled chest in a futile attempt to prevent the rampaging assault, but it was no use; Brian was like a man who had been walking in the desert for far too long and had finally found his pleasurable oasis. Except that he was willingly walking INTO a blinding sun, not _away _from it.

"I already _stopped_ the elevator," Brian growled out as he began to deftly unsnap Justin's pants. He couldn't wait to touch the silky flesh he knew was throbbing beneath the garment under his exploring hands. He snaked his hands inside his Doughboy's briefs and was about to slide both barriers down the slim hips at last when the elevator lurched and came to a stop on the bottom floor.

As the two tried to catch their bearing, Justin scrambled to quickly reattach his pants and button his shirt just before the doors slid open. Thankfully, due to the late hour, there was no one waiting to enter to Justin's great relief. As he stood up, however, he suddenly was assailed by a wave of dizziness and began to sway.

Upon seeing Justin's unsteadiness, thoughts of ravaging the other man quickly disappeared as Brian scrambled to stand up and reach Justin's side just in time to place a supportive arm around the blond's shoulders. "Hey," he murmured, worried. "You okay?" He peered intently into the blue eyes, searching for a reassuring response. He cursed himself inwardly, realizing how he had let his physical yearning for this man cloud his judgment and forget that just a few hours ago, Justin had literally passed out on the stage floor from exhaustion and neglect.

Justin took a deep breath as his head swam. He closed his eyes in an attempt to regain his equilibrium as he felt Brian's strong arm grasping his shoulders. He leaned his head into the brunet's chest and breathed in Brian's unique, masculine scent. _Why now? Why does this have to happen just when everything was starting to come together? _He winced at his choice of words; they simply served to remind him of what could be, and may very well NOT be, tonight…..What the two had looked forward to, and what had helped to keep him going this evening….

Trying to dismiss the situation lightly, he whispered as reassuringly as he could, "I'm fine…..just tired."

"Bullshit," he heard Brian growl softly as he pressed his head against the top of Justin's and pulled him into an embrace; he rocked them together slightly, his arms wrapped firmly around him. They stood there for a few seconds, the cool night air of the parking garage wafting into the compartment before the doors once closed, leaving them in silence, the only sound their now semi-regular breathing.

Justin heard Brian issue a soft sigh and felt a slight, almost feathery rush of air on the top of his head as Brian chuffed out a breath; whether it was from unspent passion or self-recrimination over disregarding his exhaustion, he wasn't sure. But they had come too far now to dwell on unpleasant thoughts. "Brian," he murmured. "Let's go." He pulled back slightly from the other man to gaze up into the concerned hazel eyes. Almost shyly, he whispered huskily, "I _want_ you."

_Oh, God_. Brian could feel his body almost exploding with desire for this man; the blond's declaration, echoing his _own_ thoughts, simply served to heighten that feeling. But Justin had almost fainted again just now; despite his craving for this man, to be with him again body and soul, his head (at least the one on TOP), was telling him he needed to slow down. He took a deep breath and loosened his grip on his Doughboy. Biting his lip, he admitted, "Fuck, I _want_ you, too. You know that." He shook his head, unable to believe what he was about to say, but knowing he _had_ to. "But that's going to have to wait."

Before Justin could utter a protest, he gently placed a hand over his Doughboy's mouth. "You are not in tiptop fucking condition at the moment," he chided the other man. "Well….at least not _health wise_." He raked an appreciative glance over the slender, slightly tousled body as he thought just how delectable the other man still looked at the moment, even at the late hour and even _with_ his tired physical state. He noticed a slight flush appear on the other man's cheeks at his pointed stare.

Hating himself for having to do it, but knowing he must, he removed his hand to place a gentle kiss on the soft, pink lips before reaching to pull Justin slowly toward the elevator doors. Punching the "open door" button, he waited a few seconds until the doors slid back and gently tugged the blond out of the cab, hastily reaching down to pick up a white, plastic bag containing the cake topper and Styrofoam container of cake slices. "Come on, Justin," he advised the blond, again wrapping a supportive arm around the blond's shoulder. "I'm taking you home." _As much as I fucking HATE it….._

"But, Brian…" Justin didn't _want_ to go home; his body was rebelling against him at the moment – he was dead on his feet and felt woozy from lack of sleep and nourishment – but his _heart_ wanted to go somewhere else: with this man cradling him against his own body. "I want to go with _you_," he insisted.

Brian stopped long enough to turn the blond around slowly and stare into his defiant sapphire eyes. "Justin, you're fucking exhausted. You need rest so you can get back on your feet. So I can get you back _off_ your feet," he gently teased the other man, relieved to find a slight smile appearing on the other man's lips.

"But why can't I do that with _you_?" the blond stubbornly persisted. "Last time I looked, you had a _big bed_ at the loft."

Brian smirked. _Little pertinent twat_. "Yeah, and my _big cock_ would have one thing on its mind if you wound up in my _big bed_."

Justin blushed again at the thought that particular statement conjured up, but he wasn't ready to give up just yet. As Brian slowly walked them over toward his 'Vette, the blond quipped, "What…..you're afraid I'll go to sleep and wind up with your big, bad cock somehow stuck in my ass while you're asleep?"

As they reached the 'Vette, Brian gently pushed the blond up against the side of the car. He reached to tenderly brush back an errant lock of hair from Justin's forehead as he murmured, "That's just it, Doughboy. Don't you get it? If you're IN my _big bed_, I won't be _getting_ any sleep – that includes my _big, bad cock_, too." Brian sighed, hardly able to believe these words of altruistic caution were coming out of his mouth. He wanted this man so badly – had wanted him so badly from the first second he had laid eyes on him. And now that they were free at last to pick up where they had left off, and he could show Justin just how much he meant to him, he found himself playing the martyr. At that moment, he realized with a small sense of amazement, just how much this man had actually affected him, and just how much he…._yes_….how much he _loved_ this man.

He curled his lips under, trying fervently not to let the true depth of his feelings be revealed; for somehow, it still scared the shit out of him. He had _never_ felt this way with any other man. He was determined not to fuck this up; somehow he knew a relationship like this one would never happen again. But he hadn't counted on the persistence of someone else.

"Brian…..please?" Justin implored softly, his hands coming up to grasp either side of Brian's head as he forced the brunet to stare back at him. "I want to go home with _you_." Justin knew by the look of tortured quandary on Brian's face that he wasn't being reasonable, but the contest was finally over and now they could move on to much more important, and pleasurable, activities. If he had to play dirty so they could _play dirty_, he would…

Brian peered back at the blue eyes, so pleading and expressive. _Don't you know I'm doing this for YOU_? _You're not playing fair here, Doughboy…._

As the soft, blue, pleading eyes continued to stare at him, Brian sighed in defeat; at least there was the couch...…He still wasn't sure that would be far enough, though, to prevent his cock from somehow winding up being imbedded in a certain lusciously-shaped ass by daybreak, though… "All right, Doughboy," he acquiesced as Justin's eyes lit up with victory. "But only if you come back with me and _go to sleep_. You need rest. And I will be on the _couch_." He locked his gaze once more on the other man's slender, entrancing body as his eyes traveled from the tip of his soft, flaxen blond head down the trim chest to the impressive cock and all the way down to his slender hips and legs. He sighed again…._It was going to be a l-o-n-g night….._

Justin pouted at the thought of not being in the same bed with Brian. How did the man expect him to sleep if he wasn't there with him, his long, lean body curled up warmly against his? But being in the same room with Brian definitely was better than the alternative of going back to his lonely, cold apartment without him. Besides, just because Brian started on the couch didn't mean he would wind up _staying_ on the couch, not if Justin had anything to say about it. "Okay," he finally agreed.

Brian didn't know whether to be relieved or wary; he finally settled on a mixture of both. He thought perhaps it would be a good idea to have Justin nearby in case he needed him for anything, but at the same the thought of his Doughboy being so close to him filled him with dread at the idea of not being able to fuck the blond senseless. Silently telling his dick that its time would come (and wincing at his choice of words), he nodded his head before opening the passenger door for Justin to enter.

Despite Justin's insistence that he was okay and merely "tired," the instant Brian started the car and began to slowly pull out of the parking garage, he noticed the blond's eyes slowing fluttering shut and within a minute or two, Justin was fast asleep, his head tilted toward the driver's side.

In the frequent shine of the overhead street lights, Brian stole glances over at the man who had made such an impact on his life and in his heart. He was still astounded by how deep his feelings ran for this man – in age, he was just barely a man and not much older than a boy. But Justin was wise beyond his years, possessing a maturity and passion that matched his own, and in some ways, surpassed it. And the man's drive and determination to be the best he could be at whatever he did, and his faith in his own talent and ability, impressed Brian greatly. Most of all, though, he was touched by Justin's compassion and his love toward others, including his own son. Gus was almost enamored of Justin as much as HE was. He smiled; it must run in the male side of the Kinney family…..they had all have fallen under the spell of a certain blond dynamo…..

As he finally pulled up in front of his loft, he slowed the car down and turned it off, noticing that Justin didn't budge as he peered over at him. His heart welled with tenderness and the breath caught in his throat at the somewhat fragile man sleeping peacefully beside him, the sounds of his soft, even breathing the only sound that could be heard in the inky darkness of night.

Hating to wake him up but knowing he had to, he quietly undid his seatbelt and slowly opened the car door. As he gently pushed it to, he walked around the back of the car toward the passenger side. Opening the other door, he noticed Justin stirring slightly at the unexpected intrusion. "Justin," he whispered to his companion, reaching across the slight body to detach his seatbelt.

Justin yawned slightly and slowly turned his head toward Brian's voice as his eyes struggled to open. The events of the day, along with his lack of attention to himself, had started to take an even bigger toll as he realized how totally spent he was. "Brian," he breathed out as he noticed the brunet gazing back at him tenderly; the look of obvious adoration on the other man's countenance made his heart almost stop from its intensity as Brian smiled back at him. "We there?"

Brian nodded, reaching his hand down for Justin to take. As Justin placed his smaller hand in his, the brunet couldn't quite believe that finally they were alone once more. It almost seemed like a lifetime ago instead of a few days. As he pulled Justin slowly up from the car, all he knew was that ONE day was way too much for him to be apart from this man. He didn't even stop to consider how the great Brian Kinney had fallen before he noticed to his alarm that Justin was again swaying on his feet and, making a spontaneous decision, he swooped down and picked the other man up in his arms.

Justin almost subconsciously placed his hands around Brian's neck as he protested, somewhat feebly, "Brian…..I can walk. Put me down." The truth was, even though Justin was slightly embarrassed by the other man's show of macho bravado brought on by concern for his well-being, and found it just a bit over-the-top, he was _also_ both touched as well as turned on by Brian's attempt at playing _he-man_.

Brian glared at him at he began to walk them purposefully toward the front stoop. "Don't argue, Doughboy," he sternly reproached his captive in a distinctive, _don't-mess-with-me_ attitude. "If you fall down and break your arm, or worse, your _lovely little ass_, I'd never forgive myself." He curled his lips under playfully. "I'm planning on protecting that ass until I get a chance to become _reacquainted_ with it."

Justin smiled sleepily, finding himself content in Brian's arm, despite the awkwardness of being carried inside. As Brian punched in the code to gain entrance, however, the blond decided there could be a lot worse things than having a dangerously sexy, gorgeous man carrying you in his arms.

To his embarrassment as well as his slight amusement, Brian didn't even let him down when he carried them into the elevator and it began to climb. "Brian," he chuffed out. "I'm _tired_, not a paraplegic."

"Just protecting my interests, Doughboy," Brian bantered back as he held tightly onto his precious cargo. Deciding he could think of a much more pleasurable way to occupy those luscious, pink lips, he couldn't help taking advantage of the situation by leaning down to bestow a slow, passionate kiss on the other man's mouth, effectively silencing his somewhat meager protests at being coddled.

He snorted softly as they finally came up for air and Justin replied breathlessly in frustration, "Don't start what you don't plan to finish, _Mr. Kinney_."

As the elevator came to a stop, he finally placed Justin gently back down on the ground and allowed him to stand; the sudden loss of those elegant, lean arms produced a profound sense of loss in the blond's mind as well as his body as Brian leaned in to whisper, "Don't worry – I have every intention of _finishing _– I just prefer to fuck someone who's awake. Much more pleasurable when they can _actively participate_."

Justin twisted his mouth wryly as Brian swung the lattice-metal door open and stood sideways waiting for Justin to disembark from the car. He watched the blond closely to make sure he was following and steady on his feet as he walked the few steps over to his loft and punched in the code to unlock it. As he slid the heavy door to the side, he reached to grab one of Justin's hands to gently pull him inside. "Come on, Sleepyhead," he cajoled the other man. "Time for bed. Do you want something to eat first?" He noticed the intense, lust-filled look Justin was giving him as he growled back, "Not _that_, you twat." He shook his head slightly at the absurdity of that statement erupting from his lips. Brian Kinney had never turned down such an obvious invitation for sex from a man as hot as Justin before; at least, not until now…...not until _this _man entered his life...

He hooked a finger in Justin's waist and pulled him farther into the loft next to him, pausing near the kitchen counter. "Park your little bubble butt down there, and wait for me," he told the blond sternly, watching to make sure he didn't teeter over the edge of the bar stool. Brian walked over to the fridge, opened it, and retrieved a bottle of water before returning to Justin's side. "Come on," he instructed like he was speaking to a slightly disobedient puppy. As Justin slowly slid down from the stool, Brian reached over to grab his upper arm to make sure he wasn't going to fall and slowly walked with him over to the bedroom.

Despite Justin's insistence that he was "fine," it was apparent after his experience at the Expo Center he was not; the normally animated, fiery man was subdued and his body drooped in extreme, sleep-deprived exhaustion. A large yawn erupted from the plump lips as they reached the bed and Brian slowly turned him around to push on the shoulders gently to silently instruct his companion to sit down on the bed.

Knowing this next part was going to tax his willpower, he steeled himself to help Justin disrobe as he sat down beside him. Justin eyed him silently with hooded eyes as he began to unbutton his shirt, evoking memories of a short time ago in the elevator when, in the throes of passion and need for this man, he had performed the same action on him. _Don't go there, Kinney,_ he cautioned himself, as at last he had the final button undone and slowly tugged on the shirt to pull from Justin's shoulders.

"Lie down," Brian softly whispered; the blue eyes practically bored into him as they locked heated gazes before Justin nodded slightly and lay down on the thick mattress. His eyes never left the other man's as he watched with fascination, as well as desire, as Brian sucked in a rather shaky breath and began to unbutton Justin's pants.

Brian cursed his own body's response to Justin as he continued to undo his jeans. _Why had he thought this would be a good idea again?_

"Uh…..maybe we'll just leave these on," he reconsidered, his voice almost as unsteady as his hands. Whether that statement was directed to Justin or him, he wasn't really sure. All he knew, though, was that he was definitely treading on shaky ground here. His conviction to bring Justin back to the loft so he could get some rest was quickly disappearing, to be replaced with a rapidly-growing desire to fuck this man until eternity.

Justin tried not to smile at that statement; inside, though, his heart was soaring and his ego was being boosted exponentially by the power he realized he had over this magnificent, confident, and successful man. Ever one not to take advantage of a situation when he could, he replied, "I won't be able to sleep this way….I _never_ sleep with my pants on. You'll just have to take them off, or I won't get any sleep at all. Isn't that what you told me you wanted me to do?"

Brian glared at him as Justin stared back innocently, his arms hanging by his sides helplessly as if he were too tired to undo them himself. _Little fucker_.

He sucked in his breath as he tore his hungry gaze away from the other man and resumed his task of unfastening the blond's jeans. He finally succeeded in opening the fly completely; as he peeled the two flaps back and saw the large bulge in the blond's briefs, it was all he could do not to reach out with his hand and give the man's impressive cock a possessive groping to send a definite message of _he's mine – everybody else BACK off_. He licked his lips anxiously as he somehow managed to avoid the mesmerizing target while he slowly pulled on both sides of the jeans to gingerly pull Justin's pants down while leaving the briefs in their thankfully-protective space.

He heard Justin sigh a little in frustration at Brian's success, disappointed that his hopes had been dashed. Brian decided if he didn't get up NOW, there was going to be only one result from this tempting encounter – he would plaster Justin to the bed with his entire body and fuck him into oblivion.

He tore his eyes away from the slightly-disheveled, mesmerizing sight as he swung Justin's legs around quickly to lay full length on the bed and rose from his seated position before things got out of hand. He paused at the side of the bed to place his hands down on the mattress and lean down to whisper, "Now get some sleep, _Doughboy_. I'll be in the other room." He reached down to place a kiss on Justin's forehead similar to one he would give Gus before he quickly retracted, afraid of the intense feelings coursing through his body at the sight splayed out before him – an almost naked Justin, lying there in his bed, the pale skin a tantalizing contrast to the dark fabric of the sheets below him. He knew if he didn't leave now, he wouldn't leave at ALL.

As he began to pull back and stand up, however, he felt a warm hand gripping his wrist and his body went on high alert. "Stay," Justin whispered earnestly. "Stay here _with _me."

_Oh, God, don't do this to me, Doughboy_. "Justin…" he began to protest; his rebuff escaped his lips, however, not nearly as vehemently as he would have liked; he simply didn't have the inclination to leave this man, despite his lover's exhausted state.

"Please." The blue eyes, hazy with sleep-deprivation, gazed back at him expressively.

Brian could feel his will evaporating almost instantly; how could he resist this man? And truth be told, did he WANT to? He already _knew_ the answer to that question, though. "I'm trying to give you space, Doughboy, so you can rest. You DO remember you passed out earlier tonight?" he reminded the other man.

"I WILL rest," Justin insisted. "But only if you're here _with_ me." He patted the mattress next to him in invitation as Brian groaned softly at the tempting sight before him.

The brunet stood there in uncertainly for a few seconds, but realized there was really no point in debating the issue; he knew where he wanted to be, where he would _always_ want to be – by this man's side, and in his bed. He sighed before reaching up to begin unbuttoning his shirt. While Justin watched hungrily, Brian felt his body tremble slightly in anticipation as he began to unsnap his jeans. Placing his shirt on the back of a chair, he stepped out of his shoes before slowly pulling both his briefs and pants down in one efficient motion. As he stood back up after retrieving his clothing, he noticed Justin eyeing him intently.

He smiled back at the other man softly, knowing there was no way he was going anywhere, not even down to the couch nearby. He slowly walked back over to the bed and, turning to sit down, swung his legs around to lie next to his greatest temptation. Although he tried not to peer over at the man he had been wanting back in his bed and his life for some time now, he could almost feel the man's heated gaze on him. "Get some sleep, Justin," he commanded as he stared up at the ceiling and tried furiously to keep his hands to himself. He heard a soft sigh from the other side of the bed before he finally risked a look over at his companion. He was disappointed, but also relieved, to notice that Justin had finally closed his eyes and was thankfully trying to get some much-needed sleep.

Hoping he could still escape to the couch after a few minutes once the other man was soundly in dreamland, he counted off the seconds as he continued to hear Justin's even breathing nearby. They were lying far enough away that he couldn't feel the other man's soft, warm, oh-so-inviting body, but it was close enough to make his own body respond just at the thought of holding him in his arms again.

He waited a couple more minutes to make sure Justin was asleep, before he turned to the side to rise from his part of his bed. Just as he was about to get up, he heard a rustling sound and his body jolted slightly as he felt a slender arm snake its way from behind him and wrap itself around his waist. A couple of seconds later, his body instantly went into excited overload as he felt Justin's body mold itself to his. Even with the Doughboy's briefs still on, it wasn't hard to feel the man's cock brushing up against his ass cheeks, just begging for entry. He turned his head slightly to ascertain if Justin truly was asleep, and decided either the blond was a hell of an actor, or he _really_ had finally fallen asleep.

He found himself in a rather perplexing quandary, whether to risk waking Justin up by removing his arm from around his waist, and also remove the temptation that went with it, or stay in bed and hope his willpower outlasted his extreme desire for the treasure lying next to him. He let out a breath in defeat, knowing he already knew the answer before he even formulated it in his mind. He slowly turned around to face the blond, and found his breath stolen away by the almost childlike, relaxed look on the blond's face. Justin always looked beautiful to him, no matter where he was or what he was doing, but in this position he looked breathtakingly gorgeous, like a blond angel asleep on a cloud. His right hand was resting under his head like an extra pillow, and a few, wispy bangs of soft hair had fallen into his eyes as he breathed softly in and out, finally looking at rest for the first time in several hours.

Despite his hunger for this man, he knew what Justin needed most right now was rest. Sighing softly, resigned to waiting at least until morning for his _own_ needs to be met, he reached out to pull Justin closer to him as the blond seemed to automatically gravitate toward him. As Brian lay on his back, the blond snuggled even closer to him in his sleep, laying his head on Brian's chest as he placed his hand, palm down, on the brunet's firm chest.

"Ah, what you do to me, Doughboy," Brian softly murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. As his body eventually relaxed, he slowly closed his eyes and dreamed of what he would be doing in the morning. For now, though, he would have to be content with the vision lying snuggled in his arms, fast asleep.

* * *

_**A/N: TBC - at least one more chapter!**_


	33. Chapter 33: Sweet Surrender

_The Next Morning – Loft_

At first the touch was barely a whisper, a light skimming over his skin. But as Brianfelt something wet and a little rough being rubbed more firmly against his chest, he came instantly awake with a start. He had had enough sex in his life – hell, in one WEEK, for that matter – to know this wasn't a tongue leisurely taking an exploration – it was something else he couldn't quite decipher. "Wha…..?" he said groggily as he quickly opened his eyes and raised his head up to see just what was going on.

As he turned his head slightly, he stared into the wide-open, blue eyes of the man he had managed to sleep in the same bed with during the night without fucking him senseless. Last night, he would have bet with his dying breath that it would have been impossible with the temptation he had brought upon himself, but he must have been more tired than he thought he was; as soon as his head hit the pillow and he had felt Justin spoon up against his back, he found himself at peace and his eyes closing almost involuntarily just before he fell sound asleep. Now, however, as he stared back into the pools of sparkling blue, he found that his body – ALL of it – was instantly on alert. After all, it wasn't every day that he found this particular soft, warm, alluring form brushing up against his own (although in Justin's case, he really wouldn't mind if it became a daily occurrence….).

He curled his lips under before smirking, tongue in cheek, "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Doughboy? And what is that shit I just felt?" Brian was relieved to see that Justin appeared to be feeling much better today – his eyes looked a lot more alert and the complexion of his skin, while still pale, was much more like his normal appearance, not the pasty and ashen look it had taken on yesterday evening.

Justin smiled somewhat mysteriously as he lay on his side, one hand tucked behind his head for support as he stared back at his bed companion. "Oh, I was just trying out a design for my next creation…_Beefcake_." As he gazed at the other man mischievously, Brian watched as the blond leaned over with a wooden pastry brush in his free hand and slathered some more of the sticky substance on the brunet's chest. "I found a much better use for the extra icing I had on the cake."

The cold sensation of the somewhat stiff, creamy concoction being applied to his skin again made Brian's body jerk a little in shock. He watched in rapt fascination, though, as Justin returned the brush to a small, circular paper plate on the nearby nightstand and replaced the utensil with his fingers as he trailed a sensual trail across one nipple and then the other; Justin smiled naughtily as he brought his hand up to display some white icing stuck to his fingers. Justin slowly pulled himself up so his face was even with Brian's before he placed each finger of his messy hand in front of the brunet. "Looks like I went and got myself all sticky," Justin murmured. "How ever will I get my hand clean now?" he asked innocently

He reached out with his index finger and placed it directly in front of the other man's mouth as he waggled it back and forth in a _come hither_ sort of invitation. As Brian licked his lips in anticipation, he leaned his head willingly toward the tempting target and opened his mouth to accept the first digit eagerly, languidly swirling his tongue around it for a delicious taste of the sweet confection – part Doughboy, part icing – before Justin slowly pulled it out as it made a distinctive popping sound.

"Mmmm…definitely _icing on the cake_," Brian softly murmured. He licked his lips and smiled back at Justin; he had no idea how the blond had managed to get out of bed earlier to retrieve one of his prize-winning pieces of cake without him being distinctly aware of it – any other time and he would have felt the loss immediately – but he was glad somehow that he had; this could prove to be a sweet way to wake up – in more ways than one. "I always knew you were very creative," Brian responded in a sexy drawl. "But you're hand is still _dirty_," he mockingly chided the other man.

Justin grinned. "It sure is…..I'd better take care of that little problem first and then I can take of _yours_," he whispered back in a sultry tone of voice that made Brian's whole body stand "at alert." Justin brought his hand back over to the brunet's lips, dangling it in front of his mouth again like it was a carrot on a stick. The brunet's eyes locked hungrily on Justin and he wet his lips with his tongue as he waiting eagerly for the next part of his "dessert."

To Brian's delight, Justin obliged him by obediently placing his pinky, then the rest of his sticky fingers, into Brian's mouth one at a time so he could slowly bathe each pale digit in a wet, hot bath. Justin's ragged breath began to speed up at the sensual feeling of the other man's expert tongue worshipping his fingers and the lust-filled gaze being directed at him as they engaged in a preliminary round of eye-fucking for what they both knew would be happening quite soon…..

"I think my chest is still a little dirty, too," Brian told the man as he reached to grab the now-clean hand and slowly caress the sensitive flesh of Justin's palm. Justin sighed in pleasure as Brian continued to massage his hand; all the achiness that had enveloped it yesterday was gone in a heartbeat as the blond relished in the sensual, tender feelings the other man's touch was creating.

As Brian reluctantly let go of his hand, Justin whispered softly, his bangs tickling the other man's forehead delightfully as he leaned over him, "I have a feeling that's not the ONLY part that's _dirty_," he replied in a sultry tone of voice, getting a quirking of one eyebrow from the other man. "But that's as good a place to start as any." He smiled softly as he pulled his body up to climb on top of the other man's. He could clearly feel Brian's arousal, now quickly becoming harder by the second, as he lay completely in between the brunet's lean, muscled torso.

Brian quickly opened his legs wider and raised them up to rest his feet firmly on the mattress to accommodate Justin's more slender frame, causing Justin to groan in delicious torment at the sensations quickly threatening to overwhelm his slow, tentative plan of seduction. As Brian twisted his lips in an obvious sign that he was aware of _exactly_ what he was doing, Justin pursed his lips together to keep from emitting any other vocal recognition that the brunet was quickly becoming much too hot to handle.

"Let me see," he finally managed to say thoughtfully, as if he were drawing a new design, "I think I'd better take a closer examination of the pecs first," he whispered, his somewhat ragged breath an exquisite breeze on Brian's quickly-heating skin. He lowered his head and began to languorously swirl his dainty, pink tongue around the other man's dusky-colored nub, the sweet vanilla taste mingling delightfully with Brian's muskier, masculine scent. "Mmmm," Justin hummed against his skin, as his tongue took a long swipe across Brian's left nipple; he smiled knowingly as he felt the brunet's body arching off the bed at his pointed ministrations. He then turned his attention to the other neglected nub; he flicked a quick couple of licks around it before biting down unexpectedly on the pebbled surface as his hands began an exploration all over the rest of Brian's chest and stomach, ever so slowly moving farther down the man's taut torso toward another target…..

Justin could feel Brian's heartbeat beginning to race and heard the other man's soft moans of pleasure as he reveled in the power he was having over this self-confident, proud, and sexy brunet. His boost of self-confidence provided him with enough initiative to slowly move his left hand down to finally grasp the other man's cock, which was now throbbing from the torment of sensations invading Brian's body. He marveled at the combination of hardened silkiness as he curled his hand over the shaft and began to move it firmly up and down, pausing briefly to rub his thumb back and forth over the leaking tip before beginning the process all over again.

"Uhhh," Brian barely managed to sputter out; his body had come completely alive with the physical attention being lavished on it by the blond's skilled method of administering his own special brand of TLC. "Justin," he somehow breathlessly uttered at last. "Come up here." At the rate the effect the other man was having on his body, he would come before they even got _started_, and he had a much more mind blowing method in mind than that. He shook his head slightly as if he still couldn't quite believe how incredible this other man could make him feel – body AND soul. How could he have ever jeopardized this?

He reached down and grasped the blond's upper arms to pull him upward, gasping as Justin's cock brushed against his; just the slightest of contact with the other man had caused his body to flood with sensations as he bit back a moan of exquisite torture at the thought of just what he wanted to do with Justin – what he wanted to do with him for the rest of their lives…..

He recognized the smug expression on Justin's face as the blond smiled back at him knowingly. _Damn fucker knows exactly what he's doing to me…_As Justin gazed down into his darkening eyes, Brian pondered for a couple of seconds just what it meant, and what he would mean in the future, before deciding rational, reflective thought was overrated and he pulled Justin's head down for a deep, penetrating kiss. As their lips opened up to accept each other's tongues, Brian pondered the marvelous feeling the other man always engendered in him; their bodies melded together so perfectly, his long, lanky one cradling the lithe, slender one as he rubbed slow circles on the pale back. It was as if they had been born expressly to worship each other. What a waste it would have been if they had never met, and how empty his life would have been without him…..

Several seconds passed with no sounds heard except for their soft panting and occasional moans of pleasure that escaped from one of them, or both; it was hard to tell as they resumed their long-awaited, intimate reunion.

"Jus…..Justin," Brian breathed out as they finally parted; the blond peered back at him questioningly as he lay sprawled on top of his chest; he smiled softly back at the brunet as he placed one hand on either of Brian's shoulders.

Brian could feel the smaller man's heart beating furiously against his own racing heart as he stared back unabashedly at him; his deep emotions for him transparent at the moment. He wanted this man so desperately, needed him – just like oxygen – but he had to make sure he really was okay. "Are you sure you're feeling all right after yesterday? Have you eaten anything this morning?"

Justin huffed softly at the man's odd timing; who could possibly think of _food_ at the moment – even him? "I was just _about_ to….." he growled as he leaned in once more to kiss the other man firmly on the mouth. His tongue poked out in an attempt to get Brian to open his mouth more deeply but Brian wasn't cooperating as he pulled back a little from the inviting lips.

"I mean it, Justin," Brian scolded him. "Are you sure you're okay now?" He knew what he _hoped_ the blond's response would be – what his body was _screaming_ at him for the answer to be – but he also needed to make sure Justin was really all right.

Justin smiled, touched that the man was worried for him. "Believe me, _Mr. Kinney_, I'm ship-shape," he teased, evoking a small chuckle from Brian at his reference to the creation yesterday that almost did him in. "My mast is flying _stiffly _in the wind, but I STILL need your cock anchored in my ass – right NOW."

Brian laughed now. "Oh, you do, do you?"

"Definitely," the blond affirmed huskily.

"Well, aye, aye, sir…..I aim to please."

Justin had had enough talk. "Well, then, aim your cock in my ass and give it a salute - NOW!" he demanded as his eyes flashed determinedly.

Just when he thought his cock couldn't get any harder, or he couldn't be any more turned on, Brian discovered just how wrong he was – this man could make him feel things he had never thought was possible before, and evoke tender feelings in him that he never really knew he had. "It would be my _pleasure_," he chuckled, as he quickly wrapped his long legs around Justin's body and deftly flipped him over onto his back.

"Just had to unfurl my sail a little more," he told the blond seriously, who snorted in frustration.

Justin reached up once more to grab Brian's cock and give it a firm squeeze of encouragement before demanding impatiently, "I think it's unfurled _plenty_ now – just fucking get _on_ with it!"

Brian grinned down at him in such a way that Justin's face flushed from the intensity of his gaze. "Ooh," the brunet drawled, "Now that you're a hoity-toity cake design winner, you're a bossy little bottom, aren't you?"

"Only when it comes to YOU, Mr. Kinney. I'm surviving right now on sleep deprivation and not enough _nourishment_, too…..now go TO it!"

Justin's heart skipped a beat as he watched Brian's expression of great amusement turn into something tenderer as the brunet gazed down into his eyes, his hazel eyes now a lust-filled, dark chocolate brown highlighted with specks of gold. Brian simply nodded silently then as he reached over to grab a nearby condom and some lube from the nightstand, observing with a little surprise that they were "conveniently" placed on top of the table rather than in the drawer. Task finished in record time, even though his hands were shaking in anticipation, he firmly but gently took hold of Justin's legs and placed them over his shoulders. "I aim to please," he murmured softly before he placed his cock at the puckering, twitching hole and slowly pushed in slightly as Justin groaned at the initial contact.

Justin's heart caught in his throat at the welcome intrusion – he had dreamed of this moment ever since they had fucked here the first time – but now there was no doubt that this was different. This was _making love_, instead; it was obvious in Brian's expressive eyes, in his hands that slowly caressed his body now, and in his murmurings of worship for him. It was obvious in the almost reverent way Brian whispered his name – his REAL name now, not some cutesy pet name. "Justin…"

Brian's heart threatened to explode out of his chest as he pushed in slowly, moving deeper into the tight, warm crevice of his own personal Doughboy. "Justin….." he repeated softly, almost in wonder as the blue eyes bored back at him in an echo of his own intense feelings and he leaned in toward that wonderfully beautiful, animated face.

He couldn't quite say the other words he longed to say – the words he suspected Justin wanted to hear – but he vowed that one day, maybe sooner than either of them thought, he knew he would be ready. Because he had no doubt now that he LOVED this man to the very depths of his quickly-warming soul. As Justin began to match his accelerated, vigorous thrusts, their lips came together as they kissed, deeply and passionately; Brian felt his heart beginning to fill with emotion and his soul at last being cleansed of its guilt.

As they lay there several minutes later, sweaty and sticky from the culmination of their passion, Brian heard Justin sigh, he hoped in contentment rather than worry. He raised his head slightly to look into the flushed face and passion-bruised lips of the man he held in his arms to whisper, "You okay?"

His body relaxed as he saw Justin smile over at him in reassurance. "_More_ than okay," he replied quietly, his voice still somewhat breathless from their mind blowing encounter. "Never felt better."

Brian smiled back at him tenderly in relief. "That's good…..because unlike one of your cake recipes, I don't think we're anywhere NEAR done yet."

Justin blushed slightly to Brian's amusement. "I would certainly hope not," he said almost shyly as he smiled back at him. "Because I'm still _hungry_ for more."

Brian's hand squeezed Justin's shoulder as he confirmed quickly, "So am I, Doughboy – but only for YOU."

_

* * *

_

Late Morning – Liberty Diner

The main morning breakfast crowd finally thinning out, Debbie glanced up as the overhead door jingled its signal that someone new was entering the diner. "Hey! Well, if it isn't the winner himself! Congratulations, Honey!" She shrieked at Justin, who beamed back at her as heads turned at the greeting to note who the new visitor was. He blushed as everyone in the diner realized their new champion of gay rights had just entered the establishment and clapped boisterously for several seconds while the two men walked toward the back of the room to find a seat.

Debbie noticed with a little surprise that the blond wasn't alone, either – he was accompanied by someone she knew well, who had Justin's hand firmly clasped in one of his own. She smiled in delight at the realization that apparently the two of them had apparently resolved their conflict; even if Brian hadn't been firmly holding Justin's hand, she would have readily been able to guess by the obvious look of affection in the brunet's eyes that something had changed as he never took his gaze off the other man.

As Brian pulled Justin into a booth to sit next to him, Debbie rushed over. "I watched the whole thing last night! You were _wonderful_, Honey!" she exclaimed as she leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek. She glared briefly at Brian. "And as for YOU, you asshole – I hope you learned your lesson!" She whipped out her order pad and, pulling the pencil out from behind her ear, she gave the leaded point a quick lick before saying professionally, "Now what will it be?"

Brian chuckled softly as Justin looked back at her in bemusement over the protective, caustic remark. "Uh….Justin will have the pancake special with strawberries and orange juice," he said as he looked over at his companion, who nodded affirmatively. "And I'll have the egg white omelet with whole wheat toast and coffee…..with a side of _yes, Mother, _to go….."

Justin giggled as Debbie's eyes lifted from her pad to stare back pointedly at Brian and point one red-colored fingernail at him. "Well, I would hope so," she retorted before her voice softened a little. "I'll have your side ready for you, then, when you leave." She winked at Justin and smiled slightly before she turned and rushed back toward the order station to place their request.

As Debbie disappeared, Brian turned to gaze into Justin's face; he was so glad that Justin was feeling better now – his face was much more relaxed and his eyes sparkled, no doubt a reflection of his own at the moment as they simply stared at each other. At the moment, no one else existed in that room. He wouldn't mind in the least if he had the opportunity – and pleasure – to gaze into those eyes every day for the rest of his life.

When he had asked Justin earlier if he wanted to go out to catch a bite to eat for a late breakfast, he had asked him if he wanted to go somewhere else rather than the diner, wanting to spare him any unpleasant feelings from the last time they had been here. But Justin had assured him that it was fine – as long as they were back on track, there would only be _pleasant _memories from now on to linger over. And he wanted to start some new ones with Brian in one of the spots that the brunet enjoyed patronizing.

Brian continued to hold Justin's hand under the table, slowly caressing the soft flesh on the underside lazily; Justin's body thrummed with pleasure and anticipation of what would no doubt be Round No. 2 later at the loft. Brian had _already_ asked him if he would like to take a walk around the Liberty Avenue neighborhood after their meal, to Justin's delight, before Gus arrived at the loft later today. He, of course, quickly accepted, wanting nothing more than to spend as much time now with Brian as possible before he had to, unfortunately, face reality once again and resume his normal work and school schedules first thing on Monday. Undoubtedly, too, now that he and Emmett had won the cake design contest, their shop would be busier than ever. Hopefully, though, the increase in business would finally allow him to stop working at the deli altogether and maybe even provide him with more time to spend with Brian, who had assured him that he wanted to be with him as much as possible, also.

He almost couldn't believe how things had turned out, but as he gazed back into Brian's smiling face, he knew he was truly happy now, and that Brian was, also. Yes, things couldn't be much better at the moment, he decided, as Debbie arrived seconds later with their breakfast and drinks.

They had almost finished with breakfast when they heard an excited shout from behind them. "Hey, Baby!" Emmett cried out as he rushed up to his partner and bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Wasn't last night _unbelievable?__‼__" _he said boisterously as he slid into the empty seat across from the couple.

Justin blushed at the thought of just HOW wonderful – in more ways than one. "Yes, it definitely was," he readily agreed, beaming back at his business partner, who twisted his own lips in a knowing grin as he glanced over at Brian, who rolled his eyes at how easy it was quickly becoming for anyone to readily figure out what was going on now between him and Justin. He decided, though, that he really didn't care anymore – it was the truth, and if being with Justin meant that he had to come out and admit it, then so be it – it was _worth_ it.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Justin told his friend, reaching into his pocket with his free hand to locate the check. "Can you deposit this into the bank's ATM for me when you get a chance?" His face turned pink again as he said a little more softly, "I think I'll be busy the rest of the day."

Emmett grinned, happy that his friend would be "occupied" for the rest of the day and knowing exactly what that would no doubt entail. "I'll be glad to, Sweetie. If I were you, I'd enjoy the rest of the weekend. Something tells me you're going to busier than a one-armed paperhanger soon enough at the shop."

Brian snorted at the odd saying as Justin laughed. "It's one of his Aunt Lula's old sayings," the blond told the other man, who shook his head wryly. Justin peered over at his friend curiously; it was obvious that Emmett knew what he had done last night, and who he had been with, but Justin didn't know anything about Emmett's "escapades." "How was _your_ night, Em?" he asked.

Emmett smiled broadly. "Oh, it was _fabulous_, boys! I was the talk of the town last night! As soon as they realized who I was, every gay boy in every bar from here to downtown wanted to buy me drinks and fuck me! Oh, it was such a joy being picky, having to flip open my phone to try and _squeeze_ them in from now until the end of the month…so many boys, so little time…" He clapped his hands. "I'm LOVING it!" he shrieked out in joy as Justin laughed.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Em," Justin told his friend as he gazed back at Brian, who was still staring at him unabated. "I know _I_ did," he added, blushing once more over the memory of the hot, unbridled passion he and Brian had experienced earlier that morning.

Brian waggled his eyebrows at him playfully before giving his hand a quick squeeze. "Well, I'd love to stay and have you go over all the details of _Honeycutt's_ _Excellent Adventures_, but we're out of here." He gave Justin a slight nudge of encouragement with his hip as Justin began to scoot over toward the aisle to get up.

He nodded at Em. "Yeah…..we have to go." Justin didn't want to waste any of this wonderful day he had with Brian – it promised to be one of the best days of his life, after what was undoubtedly the best NIGHTof his life. As he stood up, Brian still holding onto his hand possessively, he reached over to give his business partner a quick kiss on the cheek. "By the way, Em – thanks for all your help this week. I never could have done it without you."

Emmett smiled back at him broadly, his eyes watering just a little. "Anytime, Baby," he whispered, so happy that Justin was back with the man he adored again. "Anytime…..now you boys go enjoy yourselves," he told them, gesturing with his hand that they were being summarily dismissed. "I need the extra seating room for my adoring fans."

Justin pursed his lips but couldn't help laughing out loud. He _loved_ this man for always being his friend and keeping him amused. "You heard the man, Brian," he told his companion as he glanced over at the brunet. "We need to make way for my partner's admirers." He smiled back at Em before squeezing Brian's hand in a silent signal that he was ready to go.

Brian nodded. "Let 'the runner-ups down easily, Honeycutt," he suggested to the other man as he winked at Justin. "Let's go, Doughboy," he whispered to Justin as he began to pull him toward the entrance. They had almost made it to the door when it was opened at almost the same time by someone _else_ they knew.

"Well, well, well…hello, Mikey," Brian drawled darkly as he came face to face with his best friend. Michael's eyebrows rose at the sight in front of him – his best friend with the blond twink cake artist extraordinaire - Justin. Why in the hell was he with HIM again? Hadn't had enough of his one-night lay?

Brian let go of Justin's hand to place his arm around the blond's shoulders; he could feel Justin tensing up under his touch and feel him actually trembling a little, but he couldn't tell if it was from anger, nervousness or fear. Whatever the reason was, it was time to set things straight with his best friend.

Michael glared at the intruder firmly held under Brian's embrace. "What is HE doing here? Giving him an extra congratulatory fuck for a job well done last night?" Michael had watched yesterday's events with disdain and disbelief as the blond twink that had wormed his way into Brian's bed was front and center of all the attention on television last night.

He, Ben and Hunter had spent dinner at his mother's, and she insisted on watching every minute of the finale to his utter contempt. And to top it off, both Hunter and Ben had found themselves, too, caught up in the drama of the moment and wanted to stay until the winner was crowned. As Justin re-emerged back onto the stage later and was eventually crowned the winner, Michael couldn't believe it. And now this – he was not only back, he was at the diner again with his best friend who had apparently been bamboozled by his charms – or something else….

Justin stared daggers at the other man as he relieved that moment not so long ago when Michael and Brian had had a similar conversation unbeknownst to the fact that he could hear every hurtful word at the time. Was he going to relive that awful moment again? Had last night been simply that – the chance for Brian to fuck the prestigious man of the hour – the gay champion of the cake designer world? Was that all it had been? He closed his eyes for a second; afraid to open them for fear what he had seen had merely been an earnest wish on his part. As he opened his eyes, again and glanced over at Brian's face contorted in anger, however, his heart sang because he knew it _hadn't _been.

Brian dropped his arm from Justin's shoulder and took his hand once more as he stood up straight to walk the couple of steps toward Michael to stare down into his best friend's face. "Mikey….." he began quietly, his voice betraying his extreme disappointment and fury with his friend. "You've got five seconds to apologize to Justin, my…_boyfriend_," he heard the blond audibly gasp at the use of his word. "Or I will never speak to you again…..EVER."

Michael's face was one of astonishment as he stared up into Brian's face, trying feverishly to ascertain if his friend was joking or being serious. Surely he didn't mean that? Brian NEVER did "boyfriends," never HAD a boyfriend or even cared to entertain the thought of having one. He did tricks on a daily basis – sometimes MORE than daily – but _boyfriends_? As in making a commitment to someone? Never happened. At least until now, however, because as he stared into the hazel eyes he knew so well – had known since they were young teenagers – there was no doubt in his mind that Brian meant every word.

As Brian continued to stare at him steely-eyed, he shook his head in amazement. He had no idea how this lithe, slender blond artistic whiz had accomplished what no other man had been able to do, but he had. And if he still wanted Brian to speak with him – ever again – he'd best be getting used to it. Despite his reservations, though, that it wouldn't last, he huffed out a small breath of defeat before softly stating in a halting voice, "I'm…_sorry_, Justin, for what I said." His voice choked on the words, but for Brian's sake – as well as his _own_ – he managed to get them to come out in a relatively convincing tone. "I hope you'll accept my apology," he grumbled, stumbling over the words he never thought he would have to say to this man. "I was out of line."

Justin stared back at both Brian and Michael for a few seconds, still finding it hard to believe what Brian had said, and what he had _called _him - his BOYFRIEND. Not an acquaintance, not a friend, not a GOOD friend, but a _boyfriend_. And he had demanded that his best friend apologize to him, too, which he did, albeit reluctantly, he was sure.

"Justin?" Brian said softly, as the blond gazed up into his eyes. "What do you say? Do you accept?" Brian wasn't going to push him into accepting – even to his OWN ears, the apology sounded rather hollow, and it wasn't up to him whether to forgive Michael or not. If Justin was willing to, however, so was he; after all, he and Michael had had years of experience, friendship and memories between them. But he ALSO knew he wouldn't jeopardize what he hoped to have with Justin, either – years of pleasure, happiness, and good memories to forge on their own.

Michael breathed out an anxious breath – he could tell that his years of friendship with Brian depended upon whether this young man who apparently meant a great deal to his best friend was willing to accept his apology and forgive him. Never thinking in a million years he would be a participant in such a situation, he waited nervously for Justin's response.

Justin pondered what to do – he really resented what Michael had said to Brian, and he could still feel the extreme pain the comment had caused him. But in total honesty, Brian had had a chance to correct Michael when it had happened, and he hadn't done it. Brian had since explained – and Justin now understood, as well as realized how much he actually meant to Brian – but he truthfully couldn't blame it all on Brian's best friend. And however much it had hurt, he still didn't want to be the cause of breaking up a friendship of long standing between the two of them. He didn't quite smile back at Michael – that was simply asking too much of him – but he DID nod at the dark-haired man as he softly stated, "I accept your apology, Michael."

He noticed the other man's face visibly relax as he nodded back at him. "Thanks," he said simply, sounding a little more sincere this time as he tentatively held out his hand to the blond.

Justin stood there fixed in place, staring at the outstretched hand, before he finally reached to grasp it and give it a couple of shakes to seal their deal before releasing his grip. He turned to look up at Brian, who was still holding his other hand firmly. "Can we go?" he asked softly. He had had more than enough lately of being the center of attention, good or bad; right now, all he wanted to do was be with Brian.

Brian nodded as he tenderly gazed back at him. "We sure can," he told him firmly. "Later, Mikey," he said to Michael curtly; he was still not happy with his best friend's treatment of Justin, but he supposed he could understand it – after all, he hadn't exactly moved to set the record straight at the time, either. At the moment, though, he didn't have time to deal with soothing Michael's hurt feelings – he had a much more important person to spend time with. "I'm ready," he told Justin as together they walked to the door as Brian opened it.

As they left, Debbie slowly walked up to her son. "I hope you learned your lesson, Michael Novotny," she warned him. "Don't make assumptions, even about Brian. That one's different, I'm telling you."

Michael let out a sigh. "Yeah….I'm beginning to see that," he said slowly, still in disbelief. "He actually called Justin his _boyfriend_ – do you believe that?" He still couldn't quite believe it himself, even after hearing it with his own ears.

His mother, however, beamed radiantly as she replied, "Yeah…..I CAN." _Way to go, Justin_, she thought to herself. _You roped yourself a big one_. As she smacked her son lightly on his face, she turned to leave, wondering silently if Justin had done the "roping" or Brian. Whichever one had, however, she had a good feeling about it…..

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Brian's Loft – Mid-Evening

Gus sat between his father and Justin, avidly watching the movie, _Babe_, about a talking pig. As both Gus and Justin watched the movie in rapt fascination – Gus because of the "magic" talking animals, and Justin because of the intricate animation involved – Brian took the opportunity to avidly watch his Doughboy. He couldn't believe how much he was enjoying simply lounging on the couch with his two favorite boys next to him. He decided the only _other_ activity he might enjoy even more was spending some one-on-one private time with the blond in his bed.

While Gus was awake, however, that was impossible. And even once Gus was asleep later, it was going to be extremely difficult. Difficult, but not impossible, he decided, because if he had to wait until tomorrow night to be with Justin again, he felt like his entire body would begin to exhibit definite signs of Doughboy withdrawal. Once he had had a second taste of the man, he knew he just couldn't get enough – it just got better and better, like some wonderful addiction. Something told him, too, that it would definitely be incurable, but it was an illness he would gladly endure for the rest of his life.

"Brian?" he heard Justin whisper; he hadn't realized he had been daydreaming about pleasurable events to come until he heard Justin calling out his name. Focusing his thoughts back on the present, he looked over at the blond questioningly as Justin nodded his head toward the little boy sitting in between them. Gus had fallen asleep, the small, red plastic bowl of partially-eaten popcorn resting on his lap as his head lay on Justin's shoulder.

Brian smiled at his son tenderly, as the little boy curled his body into Justin's side; the small paper plate that had contained his piece of the prize-winning cake, now completely devoured, was sitting forlornly on the nearby coffee table. "Should we carry him to bed?" Justin whispered to him, afraid to move for fear he would wake the little boy up.

Brian frowned; he had hoped to place Gus to bed on the couch, not his _own_ bed – he already had specific plans for that particular structure. "No," he quickly decided. "I'll go get him a pillow and a blanket – he'd be better off on the couch."

Not fooled by that for one second, Justin murmured, "Brian….."

Brian shook his head negatively. "I mean it, Doughboy. We can't both fit on the couch if Gus sleeps in my bed."

Justin smiled – how dense could this man be? Of course, though – he knew exactly what he was saying, and Justin knew exactly WHY he was saying it – the man had other plans for them later. "Yeah, but he can if _I_ sleep here," he replied, playing along.

He felt his body tingle at the outright leer he was receiving. "Uh, uh," Brian firmly stated quietly. "Not happening…..He's not the ONLY one who's been waiting for this sleepover tonight." He slowly rose from the couch so as not to disturb his son before Justin had a chance to counter his statement and gingerly pryed the bowl of popcorn from his son's little hands. Placing it down on the coffee table, he quickly walked toward the bedroom closet to retrieve the bedding. Walking back to the couch, he flipped off the TV with the remote and impatiently motioned for Justin to move; Gus wasn't the only one ready for bedtime…

Justin smirked as he gently disentangled himself from the little boy, succeeding in removing Gus' head from his shoulder to gently place the body lengthwise on the couch as Brian laid a pillow at one end of the piece of furniture just in time. As he stood up and stretched out his own stiff muscles, Brian sat down partway on the couch to lightly place the blanket over his slumbering son, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his cheek as he gazed at him fondly. Before he got up, he silently gave his son thanks for helping to bring him and his Doughboy together...

Slowly standing up to leave Gus undisturbed, he now turned his attention to his other guest. Reaching out his hand to Justin, who willingly took it, he began to pull him toward the bedroom, his body beginning to stir at the thought of what he was about to engage in – some one-on-one contact with his favorite yummy designer…..

As soon as they stepped over the threshold and Brian had partially closed the divider, he immediately turned to urgently begin taking off Justin's shirt. "Brian," the blond said, chuckling at the other man's impatience. "We've got all night and it's still early."

Brian ignored him, yanking the shirt up over Justin's head as the blond willingly enough lifted his hands to help. "It's NEVER too early for this, Doughboy," he huskily replied, as his hands now traveled to Justin's waistband and he began to unsnap the jeans eagerly. Before Justin had a chance to respond, he leaned in to place a passionate kiss on his lips. "You've got more studying to do on the proper technique involved in creating the perfect beefcake," he added as they finally came up for air several seconds later.

Justin giggled, astonished that somehow he was completely unclothed now. "I _already_ have the perfect beefcake," he teased just before Brian grunted and pushed him firmly down onto the bed behind him. Justin watched appreciatively from the mattress as Brian quickly removed his own clothing.

Just before he joined his Doughboy in the bed, he responded huskily with a gleam in his eyes, "Practice makes perfect." Something told him, however, that this _practice_ might just take the rest of their lives…..

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_**A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing this - I have enjoyed the ride immensely! Hope you'll leave me with your parting comments as I now travel over to the "Wedding Present" to prepare for the momentous father-son reunion! Hope you'll join me there!**_


	34. Chapter 34: Epilogue

**_A/N: I know, I know - this one's supposed to be "complete!" Well, I guess I just couldn't let one of my personal favorites go just yet without giving the cake saboteurs their "just desserts" - LOL! So here is a final - yes, FINAL - chapter/epilogue. Hope you enjoy it - this one chapter in particular is dedicated to one of this story's biggest fans - Kinnetic-Bliss, as well as all the others who so thoughtfully read and reviewed - thank you for taking the time to indulge me and letting me know your thoughts - you're awesome!:)_**

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Epilogue

_One Week Later – Cakes of Art Shop_

Justin had to smile as he noticed the new sign hanging over the shop; he had to admit that it definitely looked – and sounded – much better than "Sugar Plum Cakery," although he suspected Em still secretly waxed nostalgic over the old name, at least just a little bit. But he knew Emmett would agree that the name recognition, publicity, and tons of additional business they had received since the cake competition had ended had been more than worth the change – plus Justin got the added "bonus" of having a certain, insatiably-hungry, incredibly sexy brunet in his heart and in his bed to boot. Yes, it had definitely been MORE than worth it, he thought, smiling broadly as he entered his and Emmett's shop.

"Hey, Baby!" Emmett greeted him brightly as he rushed over to give his business partner and friend a big hug. "Come and see where I put it!"

Justin laughed teasingly, "I don't think Brian would like that, Em."

Em gave him a playful smack on the shoulder. "You know what I mean, you dweeb! The trophy! Come and look!" Justin grinned as he let Em pull him over to one of the display counters where he had prominently set up the outlandishly gaudy, grand prize trophy on top, front and center. Next to the trophy were two photos of the two of them shaking hands with their television host, Paul Winslow, and the quartet of judges who had made the final decision as to whom the grand prize winner should be.

Justin studied the photo showing the two of them standing next to their trophy. "Not exactly a flattering picture of me, Em," he said as he observed the rather ashen look on his face. Between the lack of food and sleep, along with the harsh spotlights on stage that made the temperature feel like it was a hundred degrees or more, he clearly recalled how he had still been feeling the effects of all that, even a couple of hours afterward. "I still felt like shit then," he admitted frankly.

"Yeah, Baby, I know," Em murmured, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "But I was so proud of you! You hung in there and really showed those homophobic assholes how a REAL man perseveres!"

Justin grinned over at his partner. "Thanks," he said. "It was kind of a nice sort of poetic justice, wasn't it? Plus we now have more business than we can possibly handle ourselves. Speaking of which, did you get a hold of Nathan about working those extended hours?" They had had so many perspective customers contacting them since the contest, they were going to have to add additional staff to help handle the extra business; it wasn't exactly an unpleasant problem, but a challenge nonetheless. At least the increase in business had finally allowed Justin to quit his job working at the deli, and actually pay his current tuition in full for the upcoming year. For once, he didn't have to worry about where his money would be coming from on a weekly basis and he could actually enjoy his art classes and his design work. Plus, he had enough time now to enjoy something _else_ – his burgeoning relationship with Brian, who, since the contest, had been a constant presence around him, not that he minded certainly...

He felt his pulse react just at the thought of seeing Brian again – they were planning on meeting at Woody's later tonight to shoot some pool and have a couple of drinks before heading over to Babylon. Justin would have thought by now that the initial, almost school-girl giddiness he always seemed to feel when he first saw the man would have subsided somewhat by now, but he had found it had become, instead, even _more_ exciting. His face still flushed when Brian spoke to him huskily in that sexy tone of voice he only reserved for him, and they still found that they couldn't keep their eyes – or hands – off each other from the moment their eyes made contact. And Brian took a special, evil delight in finding all kinds of different ways to make Justin's body react to him when they fucked and made love – he blushed as he thought about the parts of his body he never knew were erogenous zones until Brian had discovered them...The back of his knees, the bottom of his feet, his collar bone...

"Uh, Sweetie – you're thinking about HIM again, aren't you?" Emmett nudged his friend in an attempt to get his attention; he readily recognized those moments now when Justin zoned out thinking about Brian Kinney; he always got this type of dreamy, faraway look on his face. The only difference was, now he didn't worry about it; he finally recognized that Kinney was truly enamored with his business partner and genuinely cared about him. He found that he was actually happy for Justin now, because he had seen how contented his friend had been this past week since the contest. That still didn't prevent him, however, from being amused when Justin went off into his own, private little Kinney Disneyland.

Justin glanced back at him sheepishly. "Yeah….I guess I was," he admitted. "Brian and I are meeting at Woody's later," he told his friend, unable to hide the smile on his face at the anticipation of seeing him again.

"Well, he's a very lucky man," Em told him firmly. "You make sure he always knows that, okay?"

Justin smiled. "He already does, Em – actually, we BOTH know." Justin was convinced HE was the luckiest one in their relationship, but it didn't matter; all he knew was, they were both happy as hell finally.

Em nodded. "I'm glad, Baby," he told his friend. Their moment of camaraderie was interrupted, as well as Emmett's response about the extra help, when they heard the overheard bell clang and the front door opened to reveal the Expo's Director of Operations, Bennett Rodgers, and the object of their discussion, Brian Kinney.

Justin's pulse raced excitedly at Brian's unexpected appearance as the two of them exchanged tender, heated looks. It didn't matter where they were; as soon as they saw each other, it was if everything – and everybody _else_ – immediately faded from sight. "Hey," Justin said softly to his lover, who smiled back at him fondly, causing his heart to skip a beat.

"Hey yourself, Doughboy," he responded promptly. Justin initially thought he would be embarrassed to hear Brian utter that silly nickname in front of anyone else; to his surprise, however, he decided he rather liked this special moniker that only his lover bestowed on him. It belonged to him – and ONLY him.

Brian walked over immediately and gave Justin a long, toe-curling kiss on the lips, uncaring of the passionate spectacle they were performing in front of the other two men, who exchanged amused glances themselves. Several seconds passed before the two reluctantly broke apart, but Brian continued to hold Justin firmly in his arms as the two of them turned to face the others. Justin looked a little apologetically at the other two men before he glanced back at Brian to say with a smile, "This is a nice surprise. You couldn't wait to see me later tonight?" he asked teasingly.

Brian responded softly, "Something like that," before reluctantly releasing Justin from his arms; he still kept one arm lightly wrapped around the blond's waist, though – he couldn't help it. His statement to Justin was partially the truth – he NEVER needed an excuse to see his own, personal Doughboy – he was like some terminal illness Brian never, ever wanted to recover from; this man who his son had come to adore continued to make his own heart sing, too, and his life so much richer as a result. He would spend the rest of his life being thankful for that as he added somewhat more seriously, "Actually, there was another reason, too."

As Justin peered at him curiously, he heard Rodgers clear his throat to get his attention. "Yeah…..I went over to Kinnetik to see Brian before we came here. He asked to come with me so he could be here when I told you."

Justin and Emmett both stared at the man, perplexed. "Tell me what?" Justin asked a little nervously.

Rodgers looked over at Brian, who nodded in silent agreement before he revealed, "I got a call from Paul Winslow this morning. They found out who the saboteur was who tried to destroy your cake and prevent you from competing."

Justin was both shocked and elated; he had moved on since that incident, having triumphed over the other person's attempt to destroy his hope of competing and actually managing to turn it around to come out the ultimate winner, but he had still found it terribly disheartening as well as frightening to think that someone would go to such lengths to avoid dealing with a competitor whose lifestyle they didn't understand or tolerate. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "I don't believe it!" He paused for a second to take a breath before asking the $64,000 dollar question. "Who was it?"

Initial thoughts of it being the man he had spurned at the time, Hayden Sterling, floated through his mind before he heard Rodgers tell him, "It was Sylvia Cooper, the head judge."

Justin recalled the woman's derision over his choice of cake topper – two grooms depicting Popeye and "Oliver" Oyl, and her firm conviction that it was against the rules – but still he was floored by this revelation. "The head judge? Holy shit! How did they find out?"

Rodgers continued, "Well, first of all, she didn't act alone - she had some help. It seems she had agreed secretly to present the grand prize award to Hayden Sterling initially. He had overheard some of your conversation with the judge and had gone over to her during intermission the day before your cake was destroyed to graciously offer to help eliminate her little "dilemma" over having to deal with a gay cake designer; even though you hadn't revealed your actual design yet, it was obvious, at least to her, what side of the rope you "swung on," shall we say, and she didn't like it. She could tell by that point, I'm sure, that you were going to be a serious contender for the grand prize and Sterling's magnanimous offer was too good to pass up. The irony, though, was that she had no idea Sterling was gay himself at the time he so solicitously offered to take care of her little problem; she just thought he didn't want a gay cake designer competing, either. She didn't realize he had OTHER motives involved."

Emmett whistled at this disclosure. "My God! That's unbelievable! How did they find out, though, that she was involved?" Justin nodded as he listened raptly – Emmett had just taken the words out of his mouth.

Brian smirked as Rodgers continued. "Well, it seems our dear Ms. Cooper got ratted out by none other than the perpetrator himself. He was so disgusted over the "incompetent gorilla extras," as he called them, the ones who had been hired to help move the competitor's cakes over to the design table and had promptly dropped his - that he went down to the bar later and eventually spilled out the whole, sordid tale to some of his drinking buddies. He didn't realize, though, that the other judges were kicking back a few themselves nearby and overheard the whole thing."

Justin looked over at Brian, who grinned as he nodded in confirmation. "Shit!" he exclaimed, shaking his head in astonishment. He couldn't say he was totally shocked that somehow Sterling had been involved – he had made no secret of his unrequited admiration for him and his disappointment when Justin has spurned his advances, but to have such a prestigious judge as Sylvia Cooper involved as well? He found it hard to believe that someone of her seemingly impeccable statue would resort to such measures, simply to prevent a gay man from competing in a cake contest. "Wow," he murmured in disbelief. "She went to an awful lot of trouble to keep me from competing," he said. "What a waste of a career – what's going to happen to her and Sterling _now_?"

"Oh, let me tell him," Brian interjected, wanting to be the one to give Justin the most satisfying part of their story. As his old school chum nodded, he told Justin and Emmett, "Both of them are being charged with vandalism by the Pittsburgh P.D. – they were already booked and (unfortunately) released already," he said with some degree of scorn. He couldn't say he was surprised, though, because realistically the charge was a misdemeanor and they would likely only be facing fines, not jail time for their mischief. "Those assholes should have been charged with a hate crime, in my opinion," he growled.

Rodgers nodded. "Yeah, I agree. But at least you can be assured that whatever punishment they get, Slyvia Cooper's career has been totally and irrevocably ruined with this stunt. And the television sponsor has verified that Hayden Sterling will never compete in one of their design shows ever again."

"Well, that's some consolation," Brian grumbled, still disgusted that they were likely going to get off too lightly for his taste. His face brightened somewhat, however, as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a couple of photos. It paid sometimes to have friends at the police department – Carl Horvath had been only too happy to supply him with these. "On a more positive note, though, I have some souvenirs for you," he told Justin, handing him two 3" x 5" color photos.

Justin stared at Brian, puzzled, as he took the photos from his hand and studied them. He laughed at the two "deer in the headlights" mug shot/booking images of Sylvia Cooper and Hayden Sterling taken at the precinct downtown. "Very flattering," he said, tongue in cheek, as Emmett leaned toward him to take a look and guffawed at the rather uncomplimentary shots of the two. Sylvia Cooper's normally stylish coiffure was decidely askew as she peered hatefully into the camera, while Sterling's photo merely featured him glaring intently back, his dark eyes narrowed in anger.

"I agree, Baby," Emmett told his friend, grinning. "I think the shots are very becoming – they say stripes make you look fat, though – good thing they're both skinny."

Justin laughed at his friend's comment. "Oh, Em – always the fashion critic, aren't you?" He swatted his friend playfully, finding his mood lightened considerably at the moment by two things: the discovery at last of just who was behind the hateful attack on his cake, and most importantly of all, the beautiful brunet currently staring back at him with such an open expression of tenderness on his face.

As the two of them shared a heated gaze between them, Emmett and Rodger didn't need to be told that there were two too many people in the room at the moment.

"Uh…..Brian," Rodgers began, trying to get his friend's attention. "Brian!" he said again, more loudly this time when his initial attempt failed to get the desired results. Brian finally tore his gaze away from Justin long enough to turn to stare at his old friend and raise one eyebrow of inquiry at him. "If Justin doesn't mind – and if you have the time, Emmett – I've got to get back to the Expo Center. Can I trade you a ride down there for a gourmet meal at the center's restaurant, on the house?"

Emmett smiled, knowing a certain friend of his would have no objection whatsoever to that plan. "I'd be glad to," he told the other man. "I've heard about the prime rib down there and the carrot cake – they say they're both to die for." He quickly walked over to pick up his lightweight jacket that he had slung over a nearby chair, along with the keys to the shop's van before he called over to Justin, "I'll be back a little later, Baby."

As Justin walked over to put his hands, palms down, on Brian's chest, he answered his friend, not ever taking his eyes off the brunet who was smiling back at him, "No hurry, Em…..take your time. _LOTS _of time," he added suggestively as Brian waggled his eyebrows back at him playfully.

The two only had eyes for each other as Rodgers called out a useless goodbye of his own before he merely shrugged at Emmett and the two opened the door to leave.

As the door shut behind them, Brian impatiently snaked his arms around Justin's slender back and under the open tail of his shirt. He could feel the slender body shiver a little in pleasure as his hands began a light, circular motion over the soft skin of the blond's spine to finally come to a rest in the familiar crease right above that deliciously perfect ass Brian knew so well but never grew tired of – and never _would_. He sighed. "I thought our audience would _never_ leave," he whispered huskily, as his hands pushed under Justin's pants and began to knead the soft, delectable flesh of Justin's ass while he leaned in to nuzzle the place on Justin's neck that he knew always drove him crazy and got him horny as hell. Truth be told, the sounds that his Doughboy always made when he was turned on made HIM feel horny as hell, too; he knew somehow it would always be that way, and he relished in the thought of it as he swooped in to claim the soft, full lips in a deep, penetrating kiss.

He could hear Justin's sigh of contentment as the two finally ended their union of lips. As Brian pulled back just enough to gaze into the sparkling, sapphire eyes, Justin asked him solemnly, "You think I should design a cake with a file in it for our friends?" before his lips slowly turned into a wide grin and then eventually blazed into a radiant, beaming smile that always made Brian's heart lurch from the sheer power of it.

Brian chuckled. "No, Doughboy, I think you'd better stick to cakes without deadly weapons in them," he told the other man. "Your charms are deadly enough."

Just the pink tip of Justin's tongue darted out as he licked his lower lip suggestively. "Oh, really?" he asked in a sultry tone of voice that went straight to Brian's cock. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "Would you care, then, to help refresh me on my frosting design methods, instead? I seem to still have some trouble with proper _stroking _technique when it comes to cherries, whipped cream and chocolate syrup in particular, and I think you're the perfect person to help me out with that."

He stood there looking quite serious until he squealed in surprise as Brian promptly hoisted him straight up in the air. The brunet finally gently lowered him down to the ground to place him flush against his own body; he could feel Brian's heart beating furiously against his own as he waited for his boyfriend's expected retort of d_on't even think about it, Doughboy_ to errupt from the sensuous lips of his lover before Brian surprised him by growling huskily and saying, "You can _practice_ on me any time you want, Doughboy," in so serious a tone that it made Justin's insides catapult into ecstasy.

The blond's heart leapt with joy at his lover's look of open affection as Brian reached up to ruffle the back of Justin's hair at his nape. At that moment, Justin could think of nothing else he would enjoy more than using Brian as his own personal ice cream cake. He smiled back at Brian before saying, "How about we skip Woody's and just go back to your loft so I can get started, then?"

Brian curled his lips under in amusement; his hazel eyes shone as he softly answered, "Lead the way, Doughboy," as, hands entwined, they walked toward the door. As Justin opened the door and locked it behind him, Brian somehow knew the man would have designs on him for a long, long time, and he decided it suited him just fine.


End file.
